Your Autumn Moon
by Miral
Summary: A person would have to be crazy to love someone they feared, wouldn't they? Pre-Great Revelation, Brooklyn, NY. Late one night a telepathic bartender sees a man fly off the Verrazano Bridge. Dark humor. AU
1. Why Do I Refuse the Truth?

**Story Disclaimer: Characters belong to Charlaine Harris. Brooklyn is mine. Thanks to Northman Maille and Northwoman. Long after I Write theSongs, songs are still playing the muse. Thanks also to the Home Sweet Home Contest. Nods to 'American Dad.'**

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><p>"Please come in. Make yourself comfortable." Amelia gestures to a small beige loveseat.<p>

"Thank you." I enter Amelia's compact, yet tidy office and take a seat. Although it's not my first time there, my eyes instinctively dart around, taking in the decor. Despite the neutral tones on the walls, Amelia has done a lot to enliven the space with colorful accents. The antique walnut table. Framed folk art wall prints. I notice a new throw rug under the table. I watch quietly as Amelia settles into her olive suede wing chair.

"Would you like a glass of water?" she asks.

"No. No thank you." I shake my head.

"Sarah, as I mentioned on the phone, I like to spend a few minutes getting to know my clients before we begin. Is there anything about yourself you'd like to share with me?"

"Well, I go by the nickname Sookie."

"Sookie?"

"Yeah." She seems puzzled. Does she remember? "If that's alright?"

"That's fine," she smiles, shaking her head. "Please call me Amelia."

"Thank you, Amelia."

"Of course." I shift awkwardly on the sofa until finally I decide to sit leaning forward. Amelia quietly observes my nervous movements with the air of someone who has seen it all before. She gives me an encouraging smile. I fight the urge to dip into her thoughts.

"So, Sookie," she smiles. "What brings you here this afternoon?"

Inwardly I smile. So predictable; it's always the same. I, however, can make it different. If I want to. Which I do.

"Do you think it's crazy, Amelia, to love someone even if you're afraid?"

At my question, Amelia reflexively draws in her brow. I watch as she considers her response.

"Well, I don't think that's so unusual. I think many people are afraid of being rejected—"

"No." Emphatically I shake my head. "That's not what I mean." Averting my gaze from Amelia, my eyes land on the faux Tiffany lamp that sits atop the antique table. I find comfort in the vibrant colors. Ironically I notice that the peacock blue reminds me of my lover's eyes. Composing myself, I reconsider my words. "Do you think a person would have to be crazy to love someone they're afraid of?"

Amelia fixes her brown eyes on me. Suddenly, I am feeling self-conscious. "What do you mean, Sookie? Afraid in what way?"

What do I mean? With wary eyes I return Amelia's stare. Usually I don't say very much this early on. I can't afford to say something that might prompt her to make phone calls or do something that might be difficult to undo. I'd love to be honest. I wish I could share the truth with someone—really share it. Isn't that the whole point of therapy? Paying someone so they have to listen to you talk about how terrible you think your life is?

"Are you afraid someone might physically harm you, Sookie?" Amelia's eyes lose their focus slightly as she remembers the domestic abuse training drilled into her during her clinical. Feeling a wave of guilt, I remove myself from her thoughts. "Sookie, you don't have to stay in a situation that scares you; you know that, right? There are plenty of places a woman can go." Her face reflects her thoughts: honest concern and grim reassurance.

Detached, I find myself near-giddy at her suggestion. I'd love to see the women's shelter prepared to keep me safe.

"I don't know, Amelia," I answer truthfully. "I don't really think he'll hurt me—at least I hope not—but"

"Sookie, if you're frightened enough to bring it up, I think you need to consider what your internal voice is trying to tell you."

I sigh. Amelia is big into listening to your 'internal voice'. I'm big into putting off my internal voice; I basically tell its people to call my people on a daily basis. Maybe that's why I see Amelia weekly at a cost of $125 an hour.

"Well..." My voice is low. "I'm not really here to discuss whether or not he's dangerous—"

I watch as Amelia's eyes widen. For a therapist, she holds a surprisingly straightforward view of the world. Self/Notself. Black/White. Good/Evil. As for me, I tend to see most things as shades of grey. At least now I do.

"—as much as I am here to discuss me. I'm curious about me."

"What do you mean? 'Curious about you'?"

"Well, let's say I know someone's dangerous. I know they've done terrible things. Killed people, even. But I still love them. Does that make me an awful person? Does it make me crazy?"

Despite her obvious struggle assimilating what I just shared with her, Amelia manages to maintain a neutral expression.

"No, Sookie, that doesn't make you crazy."

"What…if a person knew someone they loved might hurt—maybe even want to kill them—one day over something they have no control over?"

That catches Amelia's attention. "I'm sorry, Sookie. I don't understand."

"You never do..." I sigh.

"Excuse me?" Amelia's more confused than insulted. As far as she knows this is our first session.

"Nothing." I smile wryly.

"Maybe you want to start at the beginning?"

"Yeah. I can do that..." I reply.

So I start at the beginning...

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><p><strong>AN: Thank you for reading. Chapter title is from Aimee Mann's "Say Anything". <strong>


	2. That Night in June

**Characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I moved them to Brooklyn because I wanted them here with me.**

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><p>"It all started last summer. June. It was a humid night and I couldn't sleep. It must've been about three in the morning. I was sitting out on my fire escape." I fix my eyes on Amelia's, watching as hers widen in surprise. Even if I wasn't privy to her thoughts, I can tell what she's thinking from the expression on her face. "I'm not afraid of heights. My building's not that high anyway; I'm on the fifth floor."<p>

"Yes, of course," Amelia nods, understanding. "Can't really be too afraid of heights when you live in the city. I'm on the Upper West Side. Eleventh floor."

I can't help but smile; she always says that.

"Yeah, so... I could barely breathe inside my apartment but outside... it was nice; there was a breeze coming off the water. So I sat there, staring at the water, watching the ripples glisten under the moon. I could hear the cars on the Belt Parkway. I like the noise. It's comforting. Like a constant reminder that there's other folks around."

"That's understandable," Amelia agrees. She seems to be even more into reassuring me this afternoon than usual. "I feel that way too, sometimes. People pay good money for the white noise New Yorkers get for free."

I look at Amelia. I know she's trying to ease me in with small talk but I can tell she's worried about my earlier words.

"Anyway, I'm looking out over the water. All of a sudden I see something." Remembering, I return to that moment and my breath catches as I speak. Amelia, not an inherently patient person, is soon prodding me.

"What did you see, Sar-Sookie?"

I let out a breath. Although I've described this part of the story to her before, I find that it doesn't get any easier.

"I saw something on the bridge."

"The bridge?"

"The Verrazano Bridge. Guess you've never been to Bay Ridge?" I ask, knowing full well what the answer is before Amelia responds with a shake of her head.

It occurs to me that it might be fun to devise a way to get Amelia to visit Bay Ridge. Maybe I could add her name to the Dog's mailing list. I could find out if she follows any local bands. Maybe Sam would let me organize a Wiccan-themed event for Halloween. I think it would be awesome if I could get Amelia to come out to Bay Ridge. That would definitely add some spice to our conversation.

"Sookie?"

Roused from my musings, I look at Amelia. Oh, yeah. Right.

"Actually, what I saw..." My voice falters. Geez Louise. This is torturous. Maybe it's better not to share it after all. "I saw something fall off the bridge." My words come out in a rush and I realize a need to correct myself. "I saw _someone_ fall off the bridge."

"You saw someone jump from the bridge?" Amelia asks, startled. Dropping my shield, I can hear her wondering—as usual—who you would call to confirm something like that. She's thinking it would be the police, while I'm pretty sure it would be the Coast Guard. I bite my tongue. Not the point!

"No." I shake my head. "Not jump." I remember how effortlessly he seemed to glide. Beautiful. "Not exactly. There were two... of them." I hesitate. Do I just say it? "Two...men. They were fighting on the bridge and then, suddenly, they weren't. I saw them fall from the bridge and land into the water below."

Spellbound, Amelia waits transfixed. I can't say I blame her. It makes a damn interesting story. If it weren't my life, I'd probably find it fascinating too.

"What did you do? Did you call anyone? 911? What happened?"

I shake my head 'no'. "No, I didn't call 911. I screamed."

Amelia stares at me. I feel a flush spread across my features. I dove into her brain at this point during our first session and I still feel a wave of embarrassment recalling her thoughts. Ten years of New York's Finest drilling into our heads the 'if you see something, say something' credo and I'm ignoring possible terrorists locked in hand-to-hand combat on one of the city's most important gateways. Like I needed more stuff to add to the list of Top Reasons Why Sookie is a Terrible Person.

"Then what?"

"He heard my scream."

"Who?"

"Eric."

"Who's Eric?"

There are many answers to that question, some very complicated. I decide to go with the simplest one.

"One of the men who fell. I saw him land in the water." I pause. "I didn't understand how, but it seemed like he must've heard me 'cos he was looking right at me." Now, of course, I do understand how.

"What did you do?"

"I froze my body up against the wall, praying I was far enough away and it was dark enough that he couldn't see me." In my head, I also cursed the Community Board for incessantly nagging the city for better nighttime lighting. I know sharing that tidbit with Amelia wouldn't win me any Brownie points so I bite my tongue.

"The man was fighting for his life in the Hudson River, Sookie. Why would you be afraid of _him_?"

Technically he was in the Narrows, a tidal strait in New York Bay, not the Hudson River. I open my mouth to correct her before I swallow it back. Not the point!

"I just was. I knew I needed to be."

Amelia frowns; I can only shrug.

"I guess I was listening to my internal voice."

Amelia's frown deepens. She's not used to clients directing sarcasm at her.

"Well," Amelia says. "What happened next?"

"I watched as he swam towards the seawall."

Amelia continues to watch me, her expression clear-eyed and determined. I hear her before her lips move.

"Sookie, I know you wrote on the form that you're not taking any drugs but for me to be able to help you, I need to know the truth. Are you taking anything? Anything at all? Something to help you sleep maybe? Do you sleep okay?"

"No, no, Amelia." A wry smile forms on my lips. If only I could blame my problems on a good, old-fashioned drug problem, I'd be a happy girl. A happy girl with a good, old-fashioned drug problem. "I don't take any drugs. I used to have all sorts of prescriptions when I was younger but I haven't taken anything in about seven years. I hardly ever drink and I sleep fine." I smile. I sleep more than fine.

"Okay," she nods. "What did you see next? Did he reach the seawall?"

"I didn't see anything. I stopped looking. You have to understand." I pause, considering my words. "I was terrified. I knew…"

"What?"

"I knew it wasn't natural, Amelia. The two men. The fight. Eric just swimming la-di-da after falling from a bridge."

"What about the second man? Did you ever see him?"

I shake my head. Thoughtfully Amelia nods, processing my story.

"What did you do next?"

"I just sat back against the wall. Trying not to breathe."

"So you never called 911?"

I let out a sigh. Amelia, for all that she is independent, is, in some ways, strikingly unimaginative.

"Nope. I just sat there. I asked myself later why I didn't go inside. It was almost like I was waiting."

"Waiting? Waiting for what?" Amelia leans forward to pour herself a glass of water. She silently offers me a glass as well but I decline with a wave of my hand.

"For him." I reply simply. "All of a sudden, there was a shadow blocking the moonlight; I glanced up but didn't see anything. Then when I heard a thud on the landing above me, I knew."

"Knew what?"

"I knew he'd come for me."

"Who?"

"Eric."

"The man from the water? How did he get there?"

"He flew." I tell her. "Eric can fly, Amelia."

Amelia's mouth falls open but she quickly recovers. She's wondering if the drugs I took as a teenager might be responsible for my current "delusions" but she's gracious enough to continue humoring me, at least for the moment.

"What did you do?"

"What did I do? I just stared at him. I was in shock. My heart was practically pounding out of my chest."

"What did he do?"

"He smiled at me. Sly, playful, like a child. Like he knew he'd done something bad but at the same time thought it was the funniest thing ever."

"Did he say something?"

"Yeah." I start to giggle.

"What?"

I continue to laugh as I recall Eric's first words. Amelia looks at me, her eyes filled with concern.

"He said, 'My name is Eric. May I join you?'"

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><p><strong>AN: Thank you for reading. Chapter title is from a Shannon McArdle song.<strong>


	3. Vacate, is the word

**Characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I moved them to Brooklyn because I thought they'd appreciate a change in scenery.**

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><p>"Did you tell him he could join you on the fire escape?"<p>

"No, I didn't." I laugh. "That didn't stop him, though. He doesn't need an invitation for fire escapes." My attempt at vampire humor is lost on Amelia. "I did try to discourage him, though."

"What did you say?" Amelia asks.

~oooOOOooo~

"Well, there's not a whole lotta room." I looked up at him. "Maybe you're better off stayin' where you are."

But he'd already started to climb down the ladder.

I've learned that sometimes he'll ask permission just to be polite but then he'll do what he wants to do anyway. A minute later he was sitting beside me on the landing.

~oooOOOooo~

"Were you scared?"

"Was I scared?" I repeat the question. It still hits me as an strange question; certainly the answer is a strange one. "Amelia, it was ridiculous. I mean I was terrified when I was waiting for him. When he got there, I should've been scared out of my mind."

"But you weren't?" asks Amelia.

"I know this is going to sound crazy but no, I wasn't." I shake my head. "Once he was there, I was too shocked to be scared." I take a deep breath. "I couldn't hear him."

"But you just told me what he said to you?"

"Not that kind of hearing. I'm a telepath."

"A telepath...?"

"I can read minds. I hear people's thoughts."

"No." She says not believing.

"Yes, it's true. Me. Telepath." Why would a sane person go around saying they could read minds if they couldn't? Oh, yeah. That's right. They wouldn't.

Crazy is as crazy does.

"Okay, Sookie," Amelia pauses, considering. "Read my mind then."

I nod. Amelia refuses to believe me until I prove it to her. Then, after I do, she feels bad for having doubted me. Until she forgets. Then I'm the one who feels bad.

"You're wondering if I'm really a telepath or if I did something illegal and am angling for a crazy defense. And you're worrying, if I am a telepath, that I'll tell someone you practice witchcraft."

Amelia's eyes widen. I always feel guilty about how nervous she gets at the idea that I'm going to out her. I, of all people, would never expose someone like that.

"Wow, Sookie!" Amelia looks at me in astonishment. "I have nothing in here that would belie my interests!"

"Yeah," I slowly nod. "Now you're…thinking how many other telepaths there might be who don't realize what they are and are diagnosed as schizophrenics."

Amelia, impressed more than anything, smiles. "Yeah. Exactly." Contemplatively, she scrunches up her face; I know she's pondering the potential monkey wrench my extra sense throws into our therapy session. "Can you control it?"

"Yeah." I nod. "I have to concentrate all the time, but it's like I can hold a shield in place—like a mental window shade."

"You never relax it?"

"Only when I'm at home alone. Even then, if my neighbors are awake…Right now, it's okay 'cos I work nights and sleep late. But I've had bad spells with neighbors who've been really loud broadcasters."

"It reaches beyond walls?"

"Yeah."

Watching Amelia nod, I can easily read the telltale signs of concern on her face; her eyes, focused directly on mine, are attentive and patient. This is why I like Amelia. She's a good person and genuinely cares about me. I see this each time and leave feeling good.

"So this man's brain was silent to you?"

"Yes."

"How did that make you feel?"

How did that make me feel? It's not hard tapping back into how I felt in that moment: The sense of wonder is still there.

"I was amazed. Thrilled. I felt so happy I could explode." I let out a breath and feel a tingling down my spine. "You have no idea what it's like. All my life, all these thoughts, intrusions. Then, for the first time ever, I could be with another person and it was quiet. I could relax. I could be myself. It was heaven."

If only he could have kept his mouth as quiet as his brain, it would've been perfect.

~oooOOOooo~

"You saw me fly," Eric commented.

My brain searched for the appropriate response. Gran's advice would've been to say whatever would make the most folks in the room comfortable.

Gran's advice, I found, often hits real world challenges.

I debated possible responses: Denial? Honesty? Flattery?

"Yeah, I did." Insanely, I grinned at him. Perhaps the awe I felt at his silent brain was making me a little giddy. "I thought it was beautiful."

Staring at me, he hesitated; I figured he was sizing up the situation. Finally, he chuckled. "Thank you. It's not something I typically do to impress the ladies."

Ah.

Regarding one another curiously, we fell into a not altogether uncomfortable silence. Even though it wasn't easy to distinguish colors in the darkness, I was certain his eyes shone blue. His hair was still wet from his nocturnal swim. His skin, oddly, appeared luminescent. I wondered briefly if it was a trick of the moonlight but when I glanced down at my hand, I confirmed my own non-glowing status.

As the silence continued, it dawned on me that the ball was in my court: He was waiting for me to speak.

Studying my trembling hand, I wondered what to say. I'd never before had a conversation with a man when I wasn't aware of his thoughts. An advantage and disadvantage all in one.

Marveling over the novelty of the situation, I realized I could flirt with my flying (alien?) friend—something I'd never before been able to do. Crazy as it sounds, I found myself absurdly excited over the prospect.

Of course, considering just how pathetic my history of encounters with members of the opposite sex was, it's probably not a surprise that I found myself—right at the moment when I needed my verbal abilities the most—utterly tongue-tied.

Thinking quickly, I considered my approach.

I could take my lead from him and ask what he typically did to impress the ladies? That, I feared, was probably too open to innuendos. I didn't want my poor gran rolling over in her grave. That is, if she wasn't already doing that.

Okay, maybe just small talk then.

Maybe I could ask him what he thought of the Verrazano Bridge? Just because he decided to fly off of it didn't mean he didn't admire its architectural aesthetics. Actually, he had a unique perspective on the bridge as most people could only get up close to the bridge being tethered to some kind of harness hanging over the side. Yeah, most folks didn't have the advantage of the bird's eye view.

Or I could ask him if he lived in Bay Ridge or was visiting? Remembering the Saturday Night Live Coneheads skit, I nearly burst out laughing but somehow managed to bite it back.

I wondered if he'd get the joke if I asked him if he was a tourist from France.

I'd finally gathered my courage and decided on something to say, only to have my words die on my lips. I faked a cough to cover up the unintelligible choking sounds coming from my throat.

My internal voice must've taken over. I guess she decided self-preservation trumped flirting. Once she'd grabbed control of the reins, she wouldn't be denied. She had a question she wanted to ask. I tried to talk me—her—out of it arguing that even if I-she-we asked the question, there was no guarantee Eric would answer it honestly or answer it at all. Deep down, however, I think I knew he'd answer it; not only would he answer it, I knew he'd tell me the truth.

The downside of asking was that it kind of forced the conversation along a path of no return.

And what the hell do you do once you've gone down the path of no return, Sookie?

I've always been more stubborn than smart.

My voice was low as I peered up at him. "What are you?"

Eric didn't say anything at first; he just watched me silently. Calculating.

Then, when the moment had stretched out a hair too long, and First-Timers'-Listening-to-Your-Internal-Voice-Remorse had begun to set in, he answered me.

"I'm a vampire." Eric smiled, exposing his fangs for the first time. I gasped at the terrifying sight, likely giving him the reaction he expected.

"Oh my God..." My words were a whisper. I felt my jaw drop. Forcing my mouth shut, I made an effort to tone down my response.

"No," Eric shook his head. His smile disappeared as his expression became more serious. "Not a god. Not yet. Just a vampire. Thank you, though, for the compliment."

Although I wasn't certain, I suspected he was kidding. Two could play that game.

"No? Why not? Is the application form too complicated?" I asked, seemingly in earnest.

Eric looked at me, visibly startled, and then burst out laughing.

"Well, I don't know," he replied. "I imagine it probably is now that you mention it. Waiting periods, references, paperwork." He continued to chuckle lightly. "I was joking however."

Seeing Eric's smile, I returned it in spades. I let myself relax a teensy bit. It always ranked high with me if someone got my sense of humor. A stranger would still be a stranger but somehow they seemed like less of a stranger once a joke had been shared.

"Now, I have _shared_ my name with you." Apparently we both had a thing about sharing; from the look in his eyes, I sensed there might be more he'd like to share with me. I fought a wave of anxiety as I refocused my attention on him. "May I know your name?"

After a brief hesitation, I told him.

"Sookie." I kept my eyes resolutely on his. "Sookie Stackhouse." After meeting his stare for a few seconds, I finally had to pull my eyes away. I turned to gaze out into the night.

"Sookie Stackhouse." I heard him repeat my name slowly, like he was purposefully lingering on each letter, like a verbal caress. His accent made it sound different, foreign. I felt goose bumps spring up on my arms. "Look at me, Sookie Stackhouse." He reached across the distance that separated us. I felt his fingers gently stroke my cheek as he turned my head to face him once more.

As my gaze once more met his, I felt a pressure on my head. It felt like tweaks of power rippling over me. I could tell he was deliberately attempting to do something to me by the expectant look on his face. As that look of expectancy morphed into displeasure, I knew that whatever he'd tried to do hadn't worked.

I couldn't help but rue my luck: Of all the folks I could've annoyed that day, why did it have to be my new acquaintance, Eric the Vampire?

Not one to give up easily, Eric stubbornly continued trying to press his will into my head, while I continued to feel physical discomfort as well as the familiar creep of my own emotional angst, only now it was being served with a side of ironic horror. Sookie Stackhouse: Crazy or telepathic, even vampires are disappointed in her!

As I watched the look on Eric's face change from serious to grave and finally to something resembling regret, I knew the answer to my next question wouldn't be a good one. But I pulled up my big girl panties and in a deathly quiet yet calm whisper I forced myself to ask it.

"Is something wrong, Eric?"

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><p><strong>AN: Thank you for reading. Chapter title is from Pearl Jam's "Immortality" another song perfect for Eric and Sook.<strong>


	4. A Trapdoor in the Sun

**Characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I moved them to Brooklyn because we need more characters.**

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><p>"Is something wrong, Eric?" I repeated, my voice stronger this time.<p>

"Yes." I noticed his accent was more pronounced in the way he said the 'S'. It made me think of a snake. "You are different."

I could've told him that. Except I wasn't exactly in a habit of announcing my different-ness to the world. It usually took folks a little while to figure out there was something off about me. Eric caught on immediately. I couldn't even hear him, so it wasn't like my facial expressions had given me away.

How could he know about my telepathy just from looking at me?

Or maybe he was talking about something else?

"How do you figure?" I asked.

He snorted humorlessly as he turned away from me, dropping his hand from my face. "I cannot glamour you."

"Glamour?" Uh oh. Childhood memories of afternoons spent watching horror movies with my brother flooded my mind. I think my heart skipped a beat. "What's that?"

Without missing a beat Eric answered my question. "Vampires have the ability to impose their will on humans. Like hypnosis." Guilelessly, he grinned at me; considering his next words, it seemed absurd. "It's how we get you to willingly offer us your blood."

My eyes widened and I felt my stomach lurch. The chasm of irony that characterized his admission wasn't lost on me: "It's how we get you to willingly offer us your blood."

Shit.

"Is that why you want to glamour me? You want to drink my blood?" As disturbing as that newsflash was, my mind was telling me maybe it was a good thing if it meant he didn't want to kill me. So, all things considered, maybe the glass was half full. Of blood, of course. My blood. I bit back a snicker.

Smiling sardonically, he shrugged. "A vampire must eat sometime."

I actually did snicker at that.

"Okay," I replied slowly, careful to return his smile. We were being friendly after all. There was no need to do anything rash. If there was one thing I'd learned living in a neighborhood with roughly have the residents being in the mob and the other half being cops and firefighters, it was how to play nice. "I don't especially want to be your dinner so I guess that means I'm not willing. And you say you can't glamour me." Again, I found myself on the conversational equivalent of a walk on the plank. "Now what?"

~oooOOOooo~

"You challenged him like that? A vampire?" Amelia asks, shocked.

In spite of myself, I smile. It's always right around this time that Amelia forgets that she doesn't believe Eric's a vampire. If someone forgets not to believe you, it's the same as them believing you, right?

"Yeah. I was doing my best to not let him see, but by then I actually was pretty scared." I pause nodding at Amelia. "I mean I know my life isn't easy, but it is mine. I'm alive. I'm healthy. Might as well see it through to the end, which is hopefully a good while away."

~oooOOOooo~

"Well," Eric looked at me, the unreadable expression had returned to his face. "We don't exactly publicize our existence, Sookie."

"So you usually use glamour to make humans forget you?"

"Yes."

"And if that doesn't work?"

"It always works."

"But if it didn't? What would you do?"

He looked at me, his eyes somber. "I'd kill that person to protect my secret. I would have no other choice."

I sucked in my breath. That wasn't exactly what I'd been hoping to hear. My mind raced, trying to think of something — anything — I could say to change his mind. Maybe my telepathy would finally serve a purpose. I didn't know how much of a commodity he'd consider my "gift", but I figured it was worth a shot.

"Eric, you don't have to kill me. I'll keep your secret." I let out a breath. "I have a secret, too."

The vampire smiled at me, this one reflecting genuine amusement. "Sookie, are you proposing you'll keep my secret if I keep yours?"

Without thinking, I returned his smile. Although Eric's childlike charm could be disarming —once you got past the fangs, of course, I think my reaction had more to do with self-preservation than anything else. If Darwinism created vampires, maybe it was also responsible for the human defense, "inappropriate smiling."

"Not exactly." I shook my head and looked down. "I'm thinking that maybe once you've heard my secret, you'll think I might be useful to keep around." I realized my words could be interpreted several ways. "Alive. In a non-blood drinking way." I clarified, my tone slightly sharp. I took another breath. "At least," I pulled my eyes away from where they'd been focused and glanced at him, "that's what I'm hoping."

"You want to live."

"Yeah, I do." Meeting his gaze, I nodded.

"Secrets." Eric the Vampire stared at me. Thoughtful. "Are you looking to bargain with sex?"

Shocked by his question, I felt my body react as a blush worked its way across my features. I was still a virgin on account of my telepathy. I'd never been able to do the deed as every time I came close, I was overwhelmed by the mental wanderings of my date. It never would've occurred to me to offer that up as a bargaining chip. Wordlessly, I shook my head.

"What then?"

"I can hear people's thoughts."

The vampire's eyes darkened as he leaned over, roughly grabbing me by the shoulder and pulling me close to him.

"Can you hear my thoughts?"

"Ouch! You're hurting me."

"Can you hear my thoughts, Sookie?" His voice was hard; with a vice-like grip, he held my shoulder, squeezing.

Stunned by the sudden turnaround, I didn't answer at first; impatient at my silence, he squeezed harder.

"No," I finally spit out, shaking my head and battling tears; the pain in my shoulder was excruciating. "Not a one. Not this whole time. That's why I was enjoying talking to you. Until you started saying you were gonna kill me. Oh, God, could you please let go of me? You're hurting me!"

The pressure on my shoulder was cutting off the circulation in my arm; my arm was tingling and I was starting to see spots. My breaths were coming in shallow pants. "Please," I whimpered. "I'm a bartender. If I lose my arm," I was almost sobbing, "I don't know what I'll do. Eric! Please!"

I heard a loud crack. Then I heard nothing.

When I came to, the memories descended on me in a rush. I felt hot tears roll down my cheeks. My teeth were chattering, my face was flushed and sweaty.

I was a mess.

And that, apparently, was how I was going to die.

Disconnected from the present, my only thought was the acknowledgement of the fact that I was no longer in control. Not of my tears, my pain, my life, or my death.

Eric, I noticed, had moved. No longer next to me, he was now behind me, sitting with his back against the building, my damaged body propped up against his broad chest.

As the pain of my shoulder intensified to a level my brain could hardly register, I looked longingly at the edge of the fire escape. I marveled at the realization that I seemed to have gotten used to the idea of dying that night. If I couldn't control my life, maybe I could control my death. Better to fall five stories than to be killed by a vampire, right? I wondered if Eric would try to catch me or if he'd let me fall. Me falling would solve his problem. It would solve mine too.

Focusing on my breathing, I was able to calm myself. What I needed to do was get away from Eric's hold so I could crawl to the platform edge. Then I could be with Gran. And my parents who I hadn't seen since I was seven. My eyes filled with tears at the thought of seeing them all again.

My silent imaginings of my family reunion were interrupted by the sound of Eric's voice.

"How is your shoulder?"

Determined not to let him see my despair, I struggled to swallow my tears. When finally I spoke, my voice was dry and my words were choked. But at least I wasn't crying.

"What do you care?"

As Eric sat, I could feel his eyes boring into me. I didn't know what he was thinking, nor did I care. I decided that if these were my final moments on earth —and I'd pretty much concluded that they were — I wanted to spend them thinking about my Grandmother. I hoped she wouldn't be too disappointed in me for dying while hanging out with a vampire on the fire escape. I almost laughed out loud. She'd always scolded me for hanging out on the fire escape. Like she knew this would happen one day!

"Sookie." I didn't acknowledge him. He was a monster. Beautiful maybe, but a monster. If I was going to die soon anyway, I might as well spend my last moments doing what I wanted, not what someone else wanted.

Eric shifted away from the wall so that he was sitting with his long legs bent on either side of me, his left leg supporting my back, his right arched over my lap.

"Sookie." He raised a hand up to my cheek and turned my head slightly so he could see my face. I closed my eyes. "Look at me, Sookie."

I didn't want to but…I wasn't in control anymore. As much as I wanted to believe otherwise, I'd lost the ball the second Eric landed on the fire escape. I opened my eyes.

I started to cry.

"Please don't cry." He leaned in towards me and —to my shock — proceeded to lick my tears, starting at my tear duct and tracing a path down my cheek and neck.

I gasped as I felt his tongue and lips trail along my throat. I felt him pause at my artery and my eyes reflexively shut tight when I felt his fangs scrape along my flesh. My sobs still echoing, my breathing became heavy. I was scared to death and confused as hell. He'd broken my shoulder with no more care than a child stomping on a sandcastle. Despite this I felt a tremor of heat from somewhere deep inside me.

Hearing a crunching sound I opened my eyes. Eric had shifted again so he was once more behind me. He pulled me in to lean back against his chest.

"Drink." Eric directed me as he brought his bleeding wrist to my mouth.

"What? Your blood? I can't."

"Yes, you can. And you shall, Sookie."

"No."

"It's to heal your shoulder." He hissed in my ear. "You want to live? I'm taking you up on your offer. You live. Now drink."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you for reading. Chapter title is from Pearl Jam's "Immortality" again.<strong>


	5. Pretty Noose

**Characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I moved them to Brooklyn because even gentified it's still the most awesome part of NYC.**

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><p>"What happened next? Did you actually drink his blood?" Amelia asks.<p>

"Well, I tried not to." I take a breath, remembering. "All I could think was that given the option of dying and being with my family or drinking his blood and I don't know what, dying seemed the better option."

"Oh." Amelia, for once, is speechless. "But you're here."

"Yeah," I nod. "I am."

~oooOOOooo~

"No." I said again, all the while thinking, he can't control this, can he? He can't actually force me to drink his blood, can he?

"Sookie," Eric's anger seemed to dissipate as his voice took on a tone of calm persuasion. "You strike me as a practical young woman. Now, you have sustained an injury. For obvious reasons, I cannot bring you to a hospital." What? They couldn't have been that obvious since I had no clue what they were.

"My blood will heal you. I owe you the healing. You would be well enough to pour drinks tomorrow."

Put that way, I'd be lying if I said it didn't sound tempting. It would be like the last hour had never happened. Ick, though. I didn't want to become a vampire.

I had enough on my plate just being a telepath.

So what if I told him no? Thanks, but no thanks. How would Eric the Vampire react? Would he just kill me? I braced myself; apparently I was going to find out.

"No." I shook my head. "I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you..."

All of a sudden, he smiled. I could see his perfect white teeth and his perfect white fangs; it was awful.

"If I chose to, I could break your jaw and force you to drink."

My eyes shot open. There was my answer.

"Would you really do that?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "It doesn't make much sense." Was I insane to see an almost funny kind of twisted irony in it? 'I'm sorry I crushed your shoulder, so I'm going to heal it for you. But, first, I have to break your jaw.'

"I don't wish to, Sookie. What I wish to do is heal you," he replied. Not really an answer to the question...

"Why, though?" I asked, my voice stronger. "Why can't you just go and leave me alone? We've got an agreement. You let me live and I'll help you." I felt a tear roll down my cheek. I snickered, "I'm sorry I can't shake on it." Since he was the one who broke it, I didn't understand why it mattered to him whether or not my shoulder healed.

"You may think me a monster, Sookie but it's been a long while since I've had to kill a human." He paused, giving me a moment to digest the matter-of-factness with which he delivered his words. "Killing you or leaving you injured is not my preferred course of action."

"You just threatened to break my jaw."

"Well, that's not preferred, either." He fell silent; I figured he was thinking up a new tactic to try on me or maybe a new body part to threaten. "I just wish to make you well again."

As the tension seemed to crackle in the air around us, I realized that, although his mind was dark to me, I knew what his next words would be as surely as I knew my name.

"Sookie, please. Really, you know you have no choice."

~oooOOOooo~

"So you drank?" Amelia asks again, her voice uncharacteristically subdued.

"Yes," I say, matching her tone.

~oooOOOooo~

I watched silently as Eric sank his fangs into his wrist, which he then brought up to my lips. Unsure of what to do, I opened my mouth and tentatively began to lick around it like I would a lollipop.

Eric, amused, chuckled. "You're going to have to do better than that."

I forced myself to get over the ick factor and locked my lips around his wrist and sucked. Once I'd latched on, I was surprised to discover that Eric's blood, though it tasted metallic, also had an oddly sweet quality to it. As the thick fluid flowed down my throat, I could feel it coating my insides.

As I sucked, I got the distinct — very distinct — impression that Eric was enjoying himself. Upon taking my fourth or fifth gulp, I heard him groan loudly.

The back of my t-shirt was already damp from Eric's clothes; had that not already been the case, I suspected I would've felt a new patch of wetness by my tailbone.

That awareness startled me into reality.

Raising my head from Eric's wrist, I stopped drinking. Eric lowered his right hand, laying it on my right thigh. Watching, I saw the punctured flesh on his wrist knitting itself back together. Turning my head in slow motion, I realized Eric's left hand was comfortably resting on my left thigh.

Jolting my gaze forward, I decided to ignore Eric for the time-being and focus on me. First up, my shoulder.

Rotating my recently broken shoulder, I realized it was exactly as Eric had said it would be; it no longer hurt.

Encouraged by the lack of pain, I gradually lifted my arm up, extending it out in front of me. Happy yet scared that I was able to get it that far, I lifted it above my head. Tentatively at first but then with more confidence. I stretched my once injured arm high above me.

Not only was there no pain, but it was as thought it had never been injured. If anything, my whole arm felt stronger.

That dilemma solved, I turned my attention elsewhere.

Was it my imagination or was my hearing more acute? My breaths were so loud, they echoed like a beating heart.

Or was that actually the sound of my heart beating?

Although I knew it to be impossible, I thought I could hear the ripples on the water and the leaves rustling on the park trees yards away.

It was a quiet night, but not that quiet.

Glancing up into the nighttime sky, I realized I could make out the stars and the constellations. New York City is usually too bright to distinguish stars. More often than not the only thing visible in the sky is the moon.

That wasn't the case this night; not only could I see the stars and their constellations but their illumination to my naked eye was incredible; they seemed to emit a fluorescent array of colors. White, yellow, blue, orange...

As my attention jumped to things around me, everything took on a surreal quality.

I felt like I was high.

Gradually I became aware of a strange sensation on my neck. Then something wet hit my shoulder. Twisting my neck to look, I saw the top of Eric's head. The wetness was his hair, the sensation his lips. I sat frozen as Eric drew his lips upward along my neck.

Eric lifted his arms from where they rested on my thighs and brought them up to encircle my waist.

Becoming more conscious of my body, I didn't want to lay my arms over his as it was too familiar a gesture. Instead, I lifted my arms up, holding them awkwardly above my legs.

Eric seemed to catch on to my discomfort as he removed his arms from my waist.

I pulled myself upright, away from Eric, and wrapped my arms protectively around my chest.

I took a breath.

I wasn't sure I understood why but for some reason I was still alive.

I also seemed to be slowly but surely emerging from whatever strange haze I'd been in.

~oooOOOooo~

"What did you do next?" Amelia asks.

"What do humans and vampires sitting together on fire escapes do, Amelia?" I ask wryly. Amelia looks at me blankly. "We talked."

~oooOOOooo~

"I am sorry you experienced pain." The tone in Eric's voice actually sounded like he might've actually been speaking the truth. But I couldn't believe he was contrite for what he'd done.

"Not sorry enough," I snorted, disbelieving.

"We are very strong creatures, Sookie. Humans are," he paused, seemingly searching for the right word, "_fragile_ in comparison."

"Are you saying you crushed my shoulder by accident?"

Eric didn't answer which I thought spoke volumes.

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

Eric shifted on the platform so that he was no longer behind me. I took the opportunity to scoot myself back so that I was sitting flush against the wall.

We fell into an awkward silence until finally Eric spoke. "So, tell me: If you do not hear my thoughts, what do you hear?"

"I can sense you're there but I can't hear what you're thinking. It's like I can sense the lack of your thoughts. A void."

"A void..."

"Yep."

"And how is it with humans?"

I paused, considering my answer. All humans are not created equal. It's definitely easier with some people than others. With some, I have to concentrate extra hard to keep their thoughts out. But then, with others, like my boss Sam, I rarely get a clear read.

"It varies. Some people are loud broadcasters; I have a hard time keeping their thoughts from filtering in."

"Otherwise?"

"Otherwise I have to concentrate but I'm usually able to keep them at bay."

"How clear are the thoughts?"

"Uh, pretty clear."

"As in you sense someone's intention?"

"As in 'I'm going to the store and this is my list. I need to wash my hair, walk the dog, and take out the trash. Etc.'"

"You are able to distinguish in a room of many whose thoughts belong to whom?"

"Uh, yeah," I replied, glancing at him.

Another silence took over as it dawned on me what was going on: It was a job interview. Eric was sizing up my mindreading ability because he wanted to take me up on my offer. Shit. That was quick. As if he knew the instant I began to feel trepidation, he suddenly changed the subject.

"Have you always been a telepath?"

"Yes," I nodded. "Always."

"How did you manage as a child?"

Without thinking, I snorted. "Not very well. I got dropped to the slow class, but," I shrugged at the irony, "I did better then. My classmates had so few thoughts, there was little brain wave interference. I caught up because I could concentrate. I learned how to block out the thoughts over time."

Eric smiled, looking at me thoughtfully. Feeling maybe more than a little bravado from surviving my ordeal, I decided to ask a question of my own.

"What's in that blood of yours, anyway? Aside from the obvious, I mean. I feel —"

"Horny?" he asked, with a grin.

Caught off-guard by his words, I frowned. I actually had experienced a split second of something along those lines but had chalked it up to my exhilaration at still being alive. At his comment, I wondered if it was maybe something else. As curious as I was that Eric's blood might ramp up my libido, I couldn't help but think it was 1) not the best topic to get into with the vampire on my fire escape and 2) not the best topic to get into with the vampire on my fire escape.

"More like energized...alive..." Poor choice of words? "My senses feel...off the dial. It's —"

"Incredible?" Staring at his face, I again noticed how Eric's skin glowed.

I didn't want to agree with him, so I didn't say anything. But it was incredible.

There was a long pause while I waited for Eric to speak.

"Those are the effects on you. You will feel stronger. You will have better reflexes. You're obviously healthier. As I've already alluded, you'll have an enhanced sexual drive —"

Startled, I coughed.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah. Be ironic to choke now, wouldn't it?"

Eric chuckled. "Yes, I suppose it would."

"Any other effects?"

"On you?"

"Yeah," I nodded.

Eric shrugged, turning his head slightly to study my face. "Your complexion may be clearer and your hair may be shinier."

"Really? Wow." Vampire blood seemed to be some kind of miracle drug.

Eric abruptly changed subjects on me again.

"You live alone." He said it more like an observation than a question, but I took it to be a question.

I debated how to answer. If I didn't live alone, why hadn't anyone come looking for me in all this time? Besides all he'd have to do is look at the mailbox downstairs. The sticker with my name was the only one still glued on it. The ones with Adele Stackhouse and Jason Stackhouse had both long since been removed.

"Yes," I nodded. "Now I do."

"Now. Who lived with you before?"

"I grew up here with my grandmother and my brother. My grandmother passed on. My brother moved out a while back. Cramped his style to live with his gran and his sister. Besides it's only two bedrooms. It was pretty tight with the three of us living here."

"In my time, men were responsible for their female kin. They would take care of them financially. Make sure they were safe."

"Oh? Well," I laughed harshly, "it's not like that anymore. But, if Jason knew I needed help, I'm sure he'd help." Was it silly that I felt the need to defend my brother's family values to a vampire?

"Where does he live?"

"Who?"

"Your brother."

"Not far. He's in Sunset Park."

Eric peered at me, his eyes taking me in.

A little too late I wondered how smart it was telling Eric about Jason. I felt like kicking myself. Would Eric go find him? Hurt him? Threaten him? Shit. The initial thrill at still being alive was definitely starting to fade. Fidgeting nervously, I brought my hands up to my face to scratch away at the dried blood I imagined caked on my lips.

"Are you worried about something, Sookie?" Eric brought his hand up to my face, gently pushing several strands of hair away from my eyes.

Incredulous, I nearly laughed aloud at his aplomb. "You're kidding, right?

"Sookie, I haven't caused you irreparable harm and you should be assured by now that I don't intend to."

Wordlessly, I nodded. I twisted my head away so I no longer met his eyes. "So what are your plans for me?" An unspoken and largely ignored fear rose to the surface of my mind. "Are you going to...you know... force me?" My voice came out in a low murmur.

I felt Eric's eyes on me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his lips move, like he was going to say something but then changed his mind. Finally he spoke.

"No, I will not force you, Sookie." He gave me a sardonic smile. "Monster I may be, I do not find myself anticipating pleasure from the smell of your terror."

"Thank God for small favors," I muttered.

Eric raised an eyebrow at my comment.

"So," my eyes met his. "What next?"

"What next?" He repeated and I found myself amused by the sound of his accented voice pushing out impatient New York-style colloquialisms. "You need your sleep and for reasons I won't get into at present, I need to get home."

Grimly, I smiled. "You're like the male Cinderella."

Eric returned my smile. "Something like that."

Suddenly he stood up. I followed him with my eyes as he walked to the edge of the fire escape.

"Wait!"

"Yes?" He turned back to me.

"That's it?" What about his grilling me about my telepathy? Surely there had been a point to all that?

"No," he shook his head. "We'll see each other again, Sookie. Don't worry."

With that he climbed over the side of the fire escape and floated slowly down to the courtyard below. Once on terra firma, I saw him turn his head and look up at me. Had my senses not been heightened as they were, I never would've seen his parting wink. I watched silently as he made his way to the locked gate, crushed the padlock with his hand, and turned to walk up Third Avenue.

When I finally let out a loud sigh, I realized I had no idea how long I'd been holding my breath.

~oooOOOooo~

"Did you see Eric again?"

"Yep."

"When?"

"It was about a month later."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you for reading. Chapter title is from a Soundgarden song.<strong>


	6. In Dreams Until My Death

**Characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I moved them to Brooklyn because I didn't think we had enough vampires.**

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><p>"Did you see Eric again?"<p>

"Yeah."

"When?"

"It was about a month later.

"Where did you see him?"

"That," I pause, remembering the cold horror of the night which preceded the next time I saw Eric, "is an interesting story."

I settle back on the sofa, preparing myself to relive it.

"I went with my friends Tara and JB to see a band perform at the Living Room. I don't go into the City much 'cos the subway is a lot for me to handle. Too many minds to block; I usually just avoid it."

"I can only imagine, Sookie. So why did you go?"

I shrug. "Tara and JB wouldn't take no for an answer. It was a late show, a week night, my night off, they'd missed seeing me on my birthday..."

"When was your birthday?"

"July 1."

"Ah," Amelia falls quiet as she ponders something. While curious, I try not to invade her thoughts; instead, I force myself to wait patiently.

"Do your friends know?" she finally says. "About you?"

"The telepathy?" I ask and continue at Amelia's nod. "Yes, or at least some do. Tara does. JB doesn't. Not officially, anyway. He just thinks I get anxious in crowds. I've been friends with them a long time, since junior high. They know I used to take meds."

"That's good," offers Amelia, encouragingly. "Not the part about meds," she is quick to clarify. "That you've all been friends such a long time."

I smile. It _is_ good.

"So what happened that night? Was the club overwhelming for you?"

"No, the club was fine; it was fun." I shrug; it _had_ been a fun outing. "When I was on my way home—it was around two—something happened after we split up. Tara and JB stayed on the 2 train to go to Prospect Heights, while I switched to the R at Atlantic Avenue."

"Did something happen on the subway?

"Yes." I take a deep breath. "The platform, actually. Do you remember hearing on the news about a woman being pushed onto the subway tracks at the 36th Street R station?"

Amelia's nose wrinkles and a crease forms between her brows as she struggles to remember.

"I don't know. Seems like there's been a rash of those types of incidents lately."

"Um, yeah. Well, I was the woman in _that_ incident."

"Oh my God, Sookie! That's terrible." Amelia jumps up and envelopes me in a hug; her expression takes on a new look of worry. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, Amelia. Thank you. I'm fine. It was months ago. I'm here, aren't I?" I giggle and attempt to lighten the mood. "You know? Getting therapy for _something else_?"

"Oh, of course you're fine now," she concedes, considering. "But back then, were you hurt?"

"Yeah," I nod. "But not like I would've been had a train come into the station." I let out a nervous titter. "Thank God it was so late; few trains run at that hour."

"Yeah," agrees Amelia. Her ensuing mental condemnation of the MTA catches me off guard and I bite back a snort.

_I guess that's one silver lining to the MTA's overall incompetence; fewer trains late at night means the platform-pusher victims have a better chance at survival._

"What happened?"

"Well, this bastard pushed me and I landed on the tracks pretty hard. I never even saw what he looked like. I hit my head and was knocked unconscious. A broken arm, too. A woman jumped down to the tracks and pulled me out."

"A woman? She must've been strong."

"Yeah," I agree. "She disappeared once the paramedics got there." Now I know the identity of my mysterious Good Samaritan, but that knowledge was a while in coming.

"Wow, Sookie," Amelia shakes her head. "What a horrific story. But if there's something positive to take from it, it's that there's something to be said about the kindness of strangers. Even today."

While definitely strange, the woman who saved me turned out to be less a stranger than I initially believed. Uncomfortable with the topic, I smile placidly at Amelia; there's no need to open _that_ can of worms.

"What happened next?"

"I was unconscious and when I came to I was in the hospital."

"Oh," Amelia nods. "Observations?"

"Well, I noticed right away when Eric stopped by to visit me." I giggle but Amelia just looks at me blankly; she doesn't always get my humor.

"Eric was in your hospital room? They just let him in?"

"Yeah." I give her a significant look. "Remember? The glamouring thing?"

"Oh, yeah. Wow." She meets my gaze. "What did he say?"

~oooOOOooo~

"My, my, Sookie." Eric's eyes sparkled with amusement as he took in both me and my injuries. "It would appear that you are ill-fated for nocturnal misadventures." He was sitting on one of the visitor chairs which he'd conveniently positioned in front of the door.

"Guess so," I smiled weakly. _You ought to know_, I thought. I'd been in the hospital for just about 24 hours and was scheduled to be released in the morning—provided I made it through the night. "Have you been here staring at me long?"

"Not too long." He lips twisted upward. "You looked so peaceful sleeping; I couldn't wake you."

Okay. He's fine with breaking my shoulder but feels guilty about disturbing my sleep.

Glancing around the room, I noticed a new bouquet of flowers. My eyes zeroed in on one rather obscene, phallic-looking flower rising from the center.

"Um, those are from you I take it?"

"Yes. Do you like them?"

"It's an interesting arrangement, that's for sure." I replied. "Is there a card to go with it?" Given his taste in flowers, I could only imagine what the card was like.

"No, no card. You'll have to bear with me. Most of us have long since dispensed with human social conventions."

_'You'll have to bear with me?' Later_ I instructed myself, _I'll think about it later._

"I guess vampires are bad for Hallmark then," I observed.

I didn't think my comment was that funny, but I caught a hint of a smile on Eric's face.

"_We do like Halloween_..." he said in a playful tone.

Surprised, I burst out laughing. "Yeah, I guess you would. You get to come out of the coffin."

Eric snickered at that. "You have an interesting way with words, Sookie," he said. "You're right, of course. It does provide for some fun opportunities."

As my imagination honed in on just what those '_fun_' opportunities might be, my giggles subsided. Eric and I soon found ourselves in a silent staredown. I had no idea what he wanted from me. The irony wasn't lost on me that here I was with the only person I'd ever met whose thoughts were completely closed to me and I found myself very much wishing I knew what he was thinking.

My internal struggles must have been visible on my face.

"Not exactly happy to see me," he said.

Not answering immediately, I bit down on my lip.

He got that right: I most definitely _wasn't_ happy to see him. In the month that had passed since we'd met, while I hadn't yet managed to convince myself, I'd toyed with the idea that our encounter was either a dream or the product of my over-stimulated imagination. His presence in my hospital room pretty much killed that happy fantasy.

"Can you blame me?"

"No, I suppose not."

"How did you hear, anyway?" I asked. "About what happened?"

"I have my sources." He returned my look with a smile. I watched as he lazily stretched his long legs. His movements were so feline in nature, I wouldn't have been surprised to hear him purr.

"Do you have somebody spying on me?"

"No," he shook his head. "Let's just say I'm especially attuned to you."

Although he tossed off his words with a nonchalant air and his face remained mostly impassive, I thought I caught a flicker of something in his eyes, something that betrayed the mask of his cavalier attitude.

Eric the vampire was relieved. He was relieved that I was okay.

I played back his words in my head.

_Especially attuned_.

What the hell did that mean? I decided I'd have to tuck that away for later too.

"I also live in the neighborhood."

"Right." Actually I hadn't known that but I supposed it made sense. Bay Ridge is a little out of the way — as well as a little dull — to attract much in the way of late night thrill seekers from other parts of the city. For a vampire, I figured there were many other neighborhoods in the city that provided much better stomping grounds: more late night clubs, more drunk party-goers, more hidden corners. Reflexively, I shivered at the dark trajectory my thoughts had taken.

"So, what's the extent of the damage?"

Lost in my thoughts, I was slow in comprehending his question. I froze like a deer caught in the headlights.

Eric, meanwhile, stood up and wandered to the foot of my bed. I watched, at first with puzzlement and then with growing amusement, as he lifted the medical chart and attempted to read it, a look of disgust on his face.

"A fondness for blood doesn't exactly qualify you to practice medicine, does it?"

"No," he shook his head. "You didn't answer my question. I was hoping I could decipher your condition from the chart." He frowned, shaking his head. "No one makes an effort at good penmanship these days." He raised his head and his eyes bore into mine expectantly.

Sighing, I complied with his unspoken request.

"Concussion. Slight fracture in my arm. Cuts and bruises. That's all." _That's all_, I mentally repeated to myself. One of the doctor's comments had left me with a question. "Considering the height of the platform and where my head hit, the doctor said I was very lucky. She seems to think it could've — _or maybe even should've_ — been worse."

I shivered recalling the doctor's debriefing on _subdural hematoma_.

"It was because you had my blood."

Question meet answer.

"It's still in my system."

"Yes, you should feel the effects, benefit from the healing properties for a while. Months."

"Um, okay. I guess that's good to know." _Maybe I'll try rollerblading again _I thought_._

"Sookie," I looked on wordlessly as Eric came closer, finally perching himself on the edge on my bed. "After you had my blood, did you notice anything different?"

"No," I said airily, trying to match his nonchalance from earlier. The truth was, since drinking Eric's blood, I'd been horny as hell and I'd found myself more than once slicing a night's worth of lemons in less time than it takes a Val Kilmer movie to go to DVD. Not to mention the near-superhuman strength I'd accidentally discovered while vacuuming.

His gaze fixed steadily on me, Eric raised an accusatory eyebrow.

"What? You think I'm lying?"

"We'll leave it for the time-being." He smirked; I scowled. I felt like kicking him off the bed. I wondered if — with my new superhero strength — I could actually do it. Eric's smile grew broader as he studied me. "When do you get out of here?"

"Um, maybe tomorrow." I frowned, remembering the other worry weighing on my mind since I'd regained consciousness. It hadn't been my choice to get inside the ambulance and go to the hospital —as I'd been unconcious at the time — but I'd be responsible for paying the bill. Sam told me not to worry about it but I knew he wasn't in a position to pay the $10,000 this little incident would likely cost when all was said and done. If he had that kind of money he would have been able to keep up our employer sponsored health coverage. I thought I'd read somewhere that there was a special fund for crime victims but no one at the hospital seemed to know anything about it.

"Sookie, what's the matter?" Glancing up, I met Eric's eyes; his concern seemed genuine.

"The hospital bill is gonna wipe out my savings."

"It's already been taken care of."

"What?"

"I said it's been taken care of."

"You paid it?"

He grinned but remained silent. I grimaced just imagining how he might've "taken care" of it.

"Did it involve glamouring somebody?"

"Why, Sookie, I have to say I'm rather surprised at you. Are you saying you would've been amenable to that?"

"No!" I growled. "I'm not saying that at all."

"I guessed correctly then."

"So how was it _taken care of_?"

"What usually happens in this fair city of ours when one of the vermin attacks an upstanding and beautiful young citizen?"

I made a face as I looked at Eric. I wasn't sure where he was going with this.

"Do the words 'anonymous benefactor' mean anything to you?"

"No." I slanted my eyes at him. "Why? Did an anonymous benefactor pay my hospital bill?"

"Yes."

I continued to look at him, waiting for him to elaborate. He knew he was infuriating me. Vampire or not, in that moment, he reminded me of my brother Jason and how much he would delight in teasing me when we were kids.

"Go on," I said, my exasperation ringing in my voice.

"There's nothing more to say; it was an anonymous benefactor."

"You?"

He shook his head and chuckled. "Actually, no. That _had_ been my intention. When I found out you were in the hospital, I tried to make arrangements to pay and was told another anonymous benefactor had beat me to it." His eyes settled on me again. "A disadvantage to the hours I keep."

"All right..." I wondered who the anonymous benefactor was. I also wondered, again, how Eric found out about the incident.

"How many other admirers do you have, Sookie?"

'_Other_?' "I don't know what you're talking about, Eric," I snapped. If he considered himself an admirer of mine, I had at least one too many.

"Yes, well. We'll leave that for the moment as well. I'd rather not waste our time together discussing your other admirers."

Fine with me. "So what do you want to discuss?"

"I'm surprised you need to ask. I want to get to know you better."

Dumbfounded, I just stared at him, my mouth agape.

"You're surprised?"

"Yeah." Definitely wasn't expecting him to say that. "What do you want to know?"

"Who else knows your secret?"

'_My secret_?' So much for him wanting to get to know _me_. Knowing more about my telepathy was more like it. If Eric wanted to know more about me _or_ my telepathy, I wasn't going to just answer his questions without at least trying to get him to tell me more about himself.

"If I agree to answer your questions, will you answer mine?"

"Fond of tit-for-tat, are you?"

I glared at him.

"I may answer _some_ of your questions," he finally conceded, "provided they're innocuous enough."

"How did you know I was here?"

"I believe this game was my idea." He smiled. "The first question should be mine."

"Fond of tit-for-tat yourself, are you?" I shot back.

Amused, Eric threw back his head and laughed.

"Sh!" I hissed. "Eric! Quiet! Someone'll hear you." It was a little past 3:00 AM. I suspected the official visiting hours were long over.

As Eric quieted, my discomfort grew. He was staring at me the way hunters zeroed in on their prey on the hunting shows Jason used to watch when he lived with me and Gran.

"And what if they did, Sookie?" I felt the weight if his gaze and I fought the impulse to squirm. "Are you worried they might ask me to leave?"

"Yes."

"Why? Would you miss me?"

Unbelievable. "No, Eric." I angrily replied. "It's that I don't want to be responsible for anyone getting hurt or brainwashed — "

"Glamoured."

I raised my hand, making an impatient gesture.

"Whatever. I don't want anything bad to happen to anyone on my account."

"You have a strong sense of responsibility. A strong moral code."

"Maybe," I snickered, "and then again, maybe I'm just afraid of dying and going to hell."

Eric smiled at that, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Dying doesn't have to leave you in heaven or hell, Sookie." The unspoken implication was all too clear.

"I don't want to be like you. I might prefer hell, to be honest."

"Harsh words." Though his tone was light, his eyes were dark.

"Not as harsh as breaking someone's shoulder just to prove a point," I spit out bitterly.

~oooOOOooo~

"What were you thinking, Sookie?"

"What was I thinking? I was thinking that I was afraid of him. Not just for me, but for anyone. Afraid of what he seemed capable of. I was also curious about him. I found it exciting that I'd met someone whose mind was closed to me. I could lower my shields when I was with him. That was incredible —being able to relax my brain. The conversations...it was like I was exercising a part of me I'd never had a chance to use before."

"What do you think he thought of you?"

"He was afraid I'd betray him. I thought the shoulder thing was to scare me so I'd tow the line." I discovered later there was more to it, but at that time, that was what I thought.

"He was using fear to manipulate you."

"Yes, but I was also starting to wonder if there wasn't something else going on."

"What?"

"I was starting to wonder if Eric wanted something more from me. I mean he could do whatever he wanted to to me. He'd made that point loud and clear." I pause. "But after that first night, he didn't seem to want to use force with me; it was like he wanted me to like him."

"Did you, Sookie?"

"No, not then. The memory of the first time we met was still too fresh."

"His terrorizing of you?"

"Yeah," I nod. "I've never thought of it in those terms."

"How do you think of it?"

"Now?"

She nods.

"Worst first meeting ever."

"What happened next?"

"I told him I was exhausted and asked him to leave."

"Did he go?"

"Yes."

"Did he say anything else before he left?"

"Of course," I laugh. "This is Eric."

~oooOOOooo~

"Eric, as nice as this has been —and really, thank you for visiting me — I am recovering from a _head trauma_. I should probably get some sleep."

"Do you not feel well? Would you like something to drink?"

Weary, I glowered at him. I knew exactly what kind of _drink_ he was offering me. "_No!_ I don't want anything to _drink_. I want you to _leave_."

Eric stood, and, in an odd demonstration of fastidiousness, straightened the wrinkles on the bed sheet where he'd been sitting. "Fine, Miss Stackhouse. I'll leave you to your rest." A second later, he was towering over me and before I had a chance to react, he laid a chaste kiss on my forehead. "Sweet dreams, Sookie."

Confused, I watched as he walked to the door and silently moved the chair. After a second's hesitation, I whispered after him.

"Good night, Eric."

Straddling the doorway, he glanced over his shoulder to look at me.

"I'll be seeing you soon."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you for reading. Thanks to slcurwin for schooling me on subdural hematoma. Chapter title is from Audioslave's "Like a Stone". <strong>


	7. Show Me How To Live

**Characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I moved them to Brooklyn because Louisiana has enough vampires.**

* * *

><p>I left the hospital the next day but didn't go back to work until the day after that. Or the night after that, I should say.<p>

The fracture in my left arm wasn't bad enough to warrant a cast. Instead I wore a sling and had been sent home with strict instructions not to use my injured arm. It made tending bar a little tricky but I was able to manage the tap and the register.

It didn't take long for me to fall into my usual routine and I was pretty thrilled about it. A few of the regulars dubbed me the One Armed Bartender, which I found amusing.

Since I'd had Eric's blood the month before, I'd spent many a dull moment daydreaming of my superhero alter-ego.

Given the neighborhood's number of watering holes, I thought the One Armed Bartender was a good superhero for Bay Ridge.

The Salty Dog was a favorite in the neighborhood. Our customers included many of New York's Finest (cops), Bravest (firefighters), and Strongest (sanitation guys). We also attracted a lot of _Good Fellas_. While definitely an interesting mix, and Lord knows there were rivalries, they seemed to leave it at the door. The Salty Dog was a safe haven. What can I say? No matter their background, the guys all loved (not necessarily in this order): beer, sports, and their country. The Dog celebrated all three and everyone was happy.

I loved working there since my first day because it was shiny and lively and entertaining. Never a dull moment, I was able to sink into the background. After being poked and prodded so much during my early years, I was only too happy to get lost in the shadows.

That, however, seemed to be changing a little.

Since I'd been released from the hospital, Tara and JB had been by a couple of times and I'd been trying to pin Jason down to dinner. I didn't know for certain but I suspected that my run of near death experiences was pushing me a little outside of my shell.

Another factor contributing to my sense of well-being was the fact that Eric hadn't come through on his promise—_threat—_of seeing me again.

On my fifth night back at work, I was chatting with a couple of the regulars, Andy Bellefleur, a stocky but muscular cop, and Hoyt Fortenberry, a friend of my brother's. Hoyt, a total sweetheart, had been Jason's best friend since seventh grade. They worked together at DSNY—pronounced _Disney_ but in that it was the city's sanitation department, it was about as far away from Mickey Mouse as you could get. They also co-owned a three family house in Sunset Park, each taking one of the building's apartments and splitting the rent collected on the third unit.

"You guys good on drinks?" I smiled at the two of them; happy to be alive, I wasn't short on smiles.

"Yeah, Sook, I'm good," replied Andy. "Halleigh wants to get pregnant so I'm not allowed more than two so I don't have any trouble _getting it up_."

Andy's eyes never left mine as he spoke; I just nodded, my crazy smile plastered on my face. Stealing a glance at Hoyt, meanwhile, I saw my brother's friend nearly sputter up his Bud and silently shake his head. I brought my eyes back to Andy.

"Oh!" _What the hell would Gran say?_ "Andy! How wonderful! Halleigh's gonna make a terrific mom." She's a teacher so she must like kids, right? She's been married to Andy, a 30-something juvenile delinquent for four years; that certainly must qualify her to be a mom.

"Sookie!" All of a sudden my coworker Arlene called me from the opposite end of the bar. By my friend's spastic head movements gesturing towards the crowd in the front, I gathered there was somebody there asking for me. My heart rose to my throat. Lowering my shield, I conducted a mental survey. I was ready to pass out from relief when I confirmed the absence of Eric's familar mental void. I did, however, detect a different brain pattern. Different from anything I'd ever encountered before.

A spot opened up by the door and I caught a glimpse of a statuesque, model-gorgeous woman talking to Arlene over the bar counter. I could tell that this beautiful woman was the one with the distinctive brain pattern.

She also seemed to be the one who wanted to talk to me. With trepidation, I made my way to Arlene, a tentative smile on my face.

"What's up Arlene?"

Smiling, Arlene turned to me. Jerking her head as she introduced Claudine, her bright red curls to bounced.

"Sookie, this is Claudine. She says you guys met the night of your _fall_."

Arlene whispered the last word in the same way she would whisper "period" or "yeast infection." She was a transplant from Louisiana and some of her mannerisms still cracked me up, even after knowing her five years.

Still wearing my uneasy, unnatural smile, I turned to take a closer look at my visitor. She had cascading dark hair, big brown eyes, and a photo-ready smile.

"Hi," I greeted her. "Claudine is it?"

"That's right," she nodded. "Claudine Crane. How are you feeling? I have to say, considering what you've been through, you look terrific!"

"I was saying the same thing myself," said Arlene. "Not everyone looks good after an ordeal, but Sookie's got some good genes."

"Yes, she does," Claudine agreed, with an emphatic nod.

While decidedly charmed, I was also more than a little overwhelmed by my guest. Not to mention I was also wondering why I couldn't read her thoughts.

"Thank you, Claudine," I replied, my smile thinning out on my face. "I have to tell you: I don't remember meeting you that night. Were you at the show?"

"Oh, no, hon," she shook her head to reinforce her words. "We met on the train. Nope, make that on the platform. Maybe on the tracks is the most accurate way to describe it."

I felt my eyes widen like saucers.

"You got me out." I said, my voice a little shaky. "_You_ were the woman who pulled me off the tracks!"

"Yes, Sookie," she nodded, her delighted smile still plastered to her face.

"Hey, Arlene!" I turned around to face Arlene. "Can you manage without me for five? We're gonna go out front so we don't have to shout."

With Arlene's blessing, I hightailed it out from behind the bar and within minutes, Claudine and I were standing on Third Avenue in front of the Salty Dog's entrance.

Not sure what to say, I mulled things over in my mind for a few seconds before I felt comfortable enough to put them into words.

"Claudine, what you did for me was amazing. I can't believe you did it." Choking on my words, I had to pause. "You put yourself in danger to save me. I know there's no words that can really express how grateful I am. I mean I would've died that night but you gave my life back to me."

While a smile still covered Claudine's face, I was starting to see something else in her eyes.

Regret?

No, more than that.

Guilt?

"Claudine, you look like you have something else you want to say to me. Am I right?"

"You're a quick one," she nodded approvingly, her lips upturned in a winsome smile once more. "Niall's going to like you."

"Excuse me?"

"Sookie," Claudine glanced around as she spoke, "we have many things to discuss and I'm afraid standing on this street corner will not do."

Just then her words were underscored as a group of young men walked past, making catcalls at us.

"Ooh, you two Wonder Woman and Super Tits?"

Frowning, I rolled my eyes and did my best to ignore them. Claudine shocked me and impressed me by tackling them head on.

"Hey, I could take down any one of you in less time than it takes to say _erectile dysfunction_. You want to try me?"

The five guys, college aged and mostly drunk, chortled and just continued on their way.

"Bitch!" One of them called over his shoulder.

"You don't know the half of it," Claudine replied freely. "New Yorkers are such a different breed," she said absently to me.

"I guess," I shrugged. As amusing as it was watching Claudine in action, I really wished she would focus on telling me whatever it was she kept dancing around. "Claudine, what did you mean? Who's Niall?"

"Oh, Sookie," she smiled at me warmly. "There's plenty of time to discuss Niall." Pausing, she averted her gaze while she seemed to consider her next words. "Why don't we meet for dinner tomorrow night? Have you ever been to the River Cafe? It'll be my treat! As a congratulations on still being alive."

"I'm working tomorrow," I replied.

"Oh, I'm sure your boss will understand." Suddenly Claudine was grabbing my hand. "I'll talk to him. Come on."

Without another word—I understood instinctively that Claudine was not to be dissuaded on this matter—I followed her back into the bar and watched as she tracked down my boss, Sam Merlotte.

Having worked at the Salty Dog for nearly five years, I regarded my boss as much a friend as a boss. Sam was wiry but strong, with a halo of sandy hair. In his 30s, he'd taken over running the bar from his dad and his uncle, when they'd finally decided they'd had enough of New York winters and went the way of the snowbird and retired to Florida. Sam had just returned to New York after a stint in the military.

"Hey, boss-man," Claudine zeroed in on Sam who was manning my station at the bar. "I'm the one who pulled our girl from the choo-choo track." Stopping, Claudine threw a look in my direction; Sam's eyes, meanwhile, darted from her to me and back again. "Requesting permission to take her out for dinner tomorrow to celebrate."

"Sure," said Sam with an embarrassed chuckle, his voice carrying a lilt of uncertainty. "I'm Sam Merlotte. Who are you?"

"Well, my name's Claudine. Guess you could call me the Sook's fairy godmother."

Sam, startled by Claudine's comment, snorted but I could tell he was more puzzled than amused. Claudine was never more than one breath away from laughing and it appeared to be infectious. To some. Not to me. Not to Sam. Claudine, still giggling, gave me a conspiratorial wink while all I could do was just nod, and smile, and play along.

**~oooOOOooo~**

"Who was Claudine?" asks Amelia.

"Not _was_. _Is_, Amelia," I sigh. "Claudine plays several roles in my life," _like Eric_ I think. "She is actually a distant cousin from a branch of the family I wasn't aware existed until she showed up."

"Oh!" I watch as Amelia attempts to process this piece of information. "Well, that must be nice. Discovering new relatives."

"Hmmm, yeah," I answer lamely. I remain unconvinced.

"Wow! So it was a coincidence that your relative—"

"Cousin," I interrupt.

"A coincidence that your cousin was there and pulled you off of the track."

"Not exactly."

"What do you mean?"

"Claudine's not just my cousin," I report warily. "She really is my fairy godmother."

"Oh," she says, surprised. I can tell Amelia has no clue where to go with that revelation so she throws me a softball. "How did you find out?"

"She told me at dinner the next night."

**~oooOOOooo~**

Claudine picked me up at my apartment the following night. I wasn't altogether surprised to see her pull up in a bright blue BMW convertible.

"Hi, hon," she greeted me. She double-parked the car, climbed out, and raced over to give me a hug. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, I'm fine," I replied. "It's really just the fracture in my arm and that should heal pretty quickly."

"Terrif," she smiled. "Well, come on. Dinner awaits."

We settled inside the car and soon were off. I figured the heavy conversation would wait for the restaurant so I settled on small talk.

"So, Claudine, what do you do?"

"I work in fashion. I'm a buyer."

"Oh, I should've guessed. You have a distinctive sense of style."

That was true. This first time I met her she had been wearing an orange pantsuit; for our special dinner, she was wearing a yellow halter top and a long print skirt. I didn't think I'd be able to pull off either outfit. I wasn't sure I would want to but Claudine had an amazing figure and obviously didn't mind being the center of attention. If I found myself the center of attention, it was due to either my D cups or the crazy expression on my face.

"I like colors. Many in the City are afraid of colors. I've created my own little niche."

We continued to chitchat on random topics and within minutes we were pulling up to the River Cafe. Once the valet attendant came around to park the car I realized just how expensive the restaurant was.

"Claudine, I can pay for my own dinner," I said as I climbed out of the car. "You don't have to-"

"Nonsense! I asked you to come with me to this overpriced den of pretentious non-starters and I wouldn't have invited you if I didn't intend on paying." She smiled blithely as she linked her arm with my unbroken one. "And don't think you can cheap out on not ordering what you want. They have a $25 per person minimum so they're just going to make me pay anyway, so please order what you like."

I glanced up at her uneasily.

"Listen, I've been wanting to try this place out but I'd never come here by myself," she continued. "So really you're doing me a favor, when you think about it. And our meeting and your good health are two things highly worthy of celebration and definitely more than worthy than this tourist-cum-yuppie trap."

"All right," I finally broke down giggling.

Soon Claudine and I were seated at a table with a lovely view of both the East River and the Manhattan skyline. I'd initially demurred on ordering alcohol—I figured it would just make the dinner cost more—but Claudine wouldn't hear of it.

"Sookie, my grandfather is a very wealthy man. Your money is no good here."

"Oh!" I took that in. "Okay. Thank you, Claudine." I smiled at her gratefully and her face seemed to take on that guilty look I'd noticed the night before.

"Don't thank me too quickly, there, Sookie."

"What? Why?"

"I have to tell you something. Actually there's a couple of somethings."

"Oh? What is it?"

"Maybe three major somethings and a handful of small ones."

"_O-kay_..." I hung on to my reply, unsure of what to make of Claudine. I wasn't afraid of her, but I definitely didn't feel that she was someone who could be taken at face value. As her silence stretched on, I finally prodded her. "Do you want to start?"

"Hmmm, guess so," she nodded. "You know how you think your brother Jason is your only relative since your grandmother passed and your cousin disappeared?"

Aghast at how much Claudine knew about me, my jaw hit the floor. I forced myself to respond.

"Yes?" I said haltingly.

"Wrong! Hello, cos!"

My mouth was stuck in catching flies mode. "What?"

"I'm your cousin, Sookie! But don't worry! We can still be friends. I'm of a mind that you can be both friends and family."

"What? How?" My face must've shown every bit of my confusion.

"Well, technically my grandfather is your great-grandfather."

"What? Who?"

"His name is Niall Brigant and he's my grandfather and your great-grandfather."

"Brigant?" I asked, proud of myself for managing something other than Who? What? Or How? "I don't know that name."

"Hmm, well. There was a little side nookie involved. Your grandfather on your father's side—"

"Grandpa Mitchell?"

"Nope," she shook her head. "Not Grandpa Mitchell. That's what I'm trying to tell you. He wasn't your real grandfather. Your grandfather's name was Finton Brigant."

"What?"

"Sookie, I'm sorry. I know this kind of news must be disturbing."

"My gran-"

"Had some secrets, Sookie."

"This doesn't make any sense. Why should I believe you? How do I know you're not just making this up?"

"Well, there's really no reason for me to lie," she replied with a sigh. "If I were lying, I'd probably try to come up with something better than the truth because the truth kind of sucks."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"The truth sucks?"

"Yep," she replied cheerfully.

"How?"

"Well, I'm a fairy and you're a part-fairy. Actually, I really am your fairy godmother."

"You're my fairy godmother?"

"Yep. It wasn't a lie what I told your boss." With that, Claudine moved her hair away from her ear and I could see a pointed, Vulcan-like ear. It didn't look like it had been surgically altered. Somehow I knew if I touched it the cartilage would feel natural.

Claudine, I was afraid, was telling me the truth.

"Okay." We paused our conversation as the waiter brought out our dinners. As I stared at my delicious-looking free game hen that I no longer had an appetite for, all I could think was I'd have some nice leftovers for the next few days. When the waiter was gone, Claudine resumed her story.

"Oh," she sounded apologetic. "I'm afraid what I said might be misconstrued, Sookie." She laid her hand on mine. "I love being your fairy godmother. That's not what sucks. Really, you've been no trouble at all. Until now. And there's nothing to be ashamed about being fairy, even if you came about it through a little side-nookie."

"All right," I said uncertainly. "So what's the part that sucks?"

"Well, your great-grandfather—that is my grandfather, Niall—is having some issues with a relative. That relative is pretty angry at all of us as a result."

"Me too? But I don't even know any of you!"

"Oh, Sookie," Claudine's eyes met my own. "That doesn't matter! Breandan's crazy! He hates Niall and he'll do anything—kill anyone—to hurt Niall and eradicate the bloodline." She hesitated. "He's actually really got a beef with the half-breeds."

"Half-breeds?"

"You know," she gave me a doe-eyed grin. "Half-human, half-fairy."

A chill spread throughout me; suddenly I understood all too well what Claudine was telling me in her roundabout way.

"Claudine," I leveled my eyes on hers. "Are you trying to tell me that it wasn't just some random crazy person who pushed me off the subway platform? It was this Breandan person trying to kill me?"

"Yep. Well, it was actually Lochlan. Breandan is like Niall. Tends not to do his own dirty work." She shrugged, never losing her happy smile. "Of course, Niall's a prince. He shouldn't have to do his own dirty work. Breandan, on the other hand, is a jerk. He just needs to die."

**~oooOOOooo~**

Amelia, speechless, lets out a breath.

"So that was your dinner with the woman who saved you in the subway?"

"Yeah."

"Wow."

"I know."

"Did she say anything else?"

"_Did she say anything else_…" Repeating Amelia's words, I turn my head so I'm no longer meeting her eyes. "She said, 'You know it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to spend time with tall, blonde and dead.'"

"What? She was talking about Eric? Why?"

"Because with a little luck, he and Breandan would kill each other," I replied simply, twisting around to face Amelia. "Two birds and one stone." If there's one thing I've learned about fairies is they're nothing if not pragmatic.

"What did you say to that?"

"I told her I'd think about it." I can be pragmatic too.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you for reading. Got to love Claudine. Beautiful. Infectious laugh. Twisted as all hell. Got to love CH too. She gave us a lot to play with.<strong>


	8. In The Last Remaining Light

**Characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I moved them to Brooklyn because what better place for vampires?**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Thomas Galvin<strong> inspired Recap:_

_Sookie realizes Eric is a vamp, while Eric realizes Sookie can't be glamoured. Oh Nos!_

_Eric breaks Sookie's shoulder so he can install the vamp emotion detector/GPS combo._

_Lochlan pushes Sookie onto the subway tracks because the Fairy Family Feud is ON!_

_Claudine pulls Sookie from the tracks and sticks around long enough to school her on Bad Fairies._

_Eric does the cute/stalkery thing where he sneaks into the hospital to see Sookie._

* * *

><p><strong>~oooOOOooo~<strong>

"So what did you do next?" asks Amelia.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," I answer.

Since it's debatable as to whether or not Amelia actually believes me, she wisely falls silent. Finally she speaks, her tone warm and comforting.

"Tell me, Sookie. I believe you."

Wearing a tight smile, I nod. I recall how grateful I am to have I discovered Amelia, "overhearing" her thoughts in a Manhattan store one day. It was not luck that brought me to her, but my gift. I theorized—correctly—that someone who practices witchcraft would be more willing to believe what I had to say about my crazy life.

"Claudine wanted me to be prepared in case Lochlan came back and tried again."

"She wanted you to be able to defend yourself?"

"Yeah."

"Well, that sounds smart."

"Yeah…I know…"

"Where did you go?"

"Do you know the Lowes on 2nd Avenue?"

"Lowes? What's that?"

"Slightly nicer than Home Depot."

"Oh," nods Amelia. "They were open after you left the restaurant?"

"Open until midnight. You know," I laugh, "when you absolutely have to buy iron tools and it can't possibly wait until morning…" Yeah, this doesn't sound too insane.

**~oooOOOooo~**

"Sookie, I think you should get this." My fairy godmother-cum-cousin held up a mallet-like hammer in her glove-clad hand, pretending to tap it on an air xylophone.

"I don't know, Claudine. That's like a _mallet_."

"It's not _like_ a mallet; it _is_ a mallet. All the better to bash somebody's head in."

As she issued her assertion, the smile never left Claudine's face. I was starting to wonder that my newly discovered relation was slightly manic. I had decided to take it on faith that she really was my cousin for the simple reason that I couldn't understand why she would lie about something like that. I did, however, make her prove she was a fairy, refusing to go to Lowes until she did something "fairy-like." Although initially she balked, finally she gave in, "popping" between locked toilet stalls in the River Café's ladies' room.

"Sh!" I did my best to quiet her down but we still managed to score a few stares. "She's just kidding," I said, throwing a nervous smile at a stocky middle-aged couple. They didn't believe me, apparently; peevishly I watched as they exhcanged a look and proceeded to race-walk away.

My aspirations to normalcy seemed to be becoming more and more of a longshot.

"No, I'm not!" Claudine retorted, in a sing-song voice. "And he deserves it!" My cousin then directed her megawatt smile to a 30-something African American woman pushing a cart filled with painting supplies.

"Wouldn't doubt it for a second, honey," the woman shrugged. "I pistol-whipped my ex. He had it coming to him, too. That's nice, you got your girl's back."

"Oh, you bet I do!" Claudine nodded emphatically while her new friend's mouth widened in approval. "That's why I'm telling her to get the mallet!"

Thank God I live in Brooklyn. I'm sure if I lived in the country somewhere, I'm sure I'd stick out like a sore thumb.

"Sookie?"

"Fine," I resigned myself. "Put it in the cart."

**~oooOOOooo~**

"Wow, so iron?" says Amelia.

"Yeah," I respond. "Screwdrivers, trowels, the hammer...The checkout clerk asked me if I was taking up gardening or woodworking."

"What did you tell them?"

"I said, 'Neither, just wanted some tools around—in case.'"

"What did they say to that?"

I glare wordlessly at Amelia.

"Is there anything else?"

I groan. Some of this stuff is just too ridiculous to be believed.

**~oooOOOooo~**

Snuggled under my top sheet, beside me on my nightstand were my new collection of iron tools and a container of lemon juice. While I understood the tools, I was admittedly still hazy on how to use the lemon juice as an Evil Fairy Deterrent.

My bedroom windows were shut. The air conditioner was on. My "cousin" was long gone. Exhausted and confused, I was thrilled to be going to bed.

I was just _really_ looking forward to being unconscious for a few hours.

My happiness was short-lived when suddenly I heard a tapping on my window.

"Fuck!" I muttered.

Not stirring from my bed, I debated whether or not to get up.

The tapping continued.

Of course, I knew who it was. I was never one to have late-night guests arriving at my door, much less at my window.

Crawling out of my bed, I put a light robe on over my threadbare summer pajamas. Peering behind my bedroom curtain, I confirmed the identity of my nocturnal visitor. Opening my bedroom door, I switched the lights on in the living room and made my way across the room. Once at the window, I scowled at Eric. With my good arm, I struggled to push open the window.

"What the hell do you want?" I didn't even try to contain the impatience in my voice.

"Really? You don't know? Can't even guess? Late at night, a member of the opposite sex calls on you?"

I let out a loud sigh of frustration. "What do you want, Eric?"

"Nothing, Sookie." His eyes stole a glance past me into the living room. "I will say this: you are very naive for a New Yorker."

"Fuck you."

"Well, at least you have the mouth of a New Yorker," he observed drily. "In any event, I don't think you should be making promises you don't intend on keeping."

"Drop dead."

"Very funny," he snorted.

"Thank you." I burst out laughing.

Apparently tired of my snarky retorts, Eric chose that moment to change the subject. "Going to invite me in?"

"Not on your life!" I huffed, incredulity echoing in my voice. "I may not be as old as you but I wasn't born yesterday!"

"Ah," he sighed. "Caught on to that?"

"I watched every vampire movie I could find on Netflix."

All of a sudden, he sniffed the air. His eyes took on a glazed distant look.

"Tell me Sookie, who were you with today?"

"My cousin." Claudine advised me to tell Eric not only about her, but about Niall too. She said it would keep him in line. She was pretty sorry that she hadn't been able to intervene during the shoulder incident but apparently vampires find fairies "irresistible" in the same way I find Dove dark chocolate "irresistible".

My eyes never wavering from Eric, I saw that my answer caught him by surprise.

"What's the matter? Cat got your fangs?"

Emerging from his mental preoccupation, he refocused his eyes on me. "Your cousin is a fairy."

"Yep."

"You're part Fae." I took that to mean I was part-fairy. I jerked my head, but didn't say anything, figuring it was best to just be ambiguous with my response since technically I had no clue what he was talking about. I could be agreeing. Or not. "Why didn't you say something?"

"Why? Would it have made a difference? Would you have done anything differently?" _Would you have tortured me less?_ I wanted to ask him but bit it back. While—after our encounter in the hospital—I was starting to feel slightly more confident that Eric would not be so quick about hurting me again, there was always the chance that I was totally and completely deluding myself.

"Doubtful," he shrugged. "You're still mostly human."

"Right," I nodded. "So my fate was to be tortured no matter what," I shot back sarcastically.

He had the temerity to actually look offended.

"I didn't torture you."

"You don't think so? What do you call breaking my shoulder and forcing me to drink your blood? Or threatening to break my jaw? Letting me think you were going to kill me? Were we having some kind of tea party?"

Eric stared at me. Uncomfortable under the weight of his constant gaze, I turned my eyes downward.

"I had no choice." He paused, apparently considering his words. "Under different circumstances, I—" I kept my eyes focused on my floor and I guess that irked him. "Sookie, look at me." Hesitantly, I brought my eyes up to comply with his request. "I could not just let you walk away..."

I just stared at him, silently daring him to continue, disbelief and resentment filling my eyes.

"I told you, Sookie," he said, his eyes holding mine. "I don't leave my survival to chance. Not when there's something I can do to ensure it." He grinned at me. "But I liked you. I found that I didn't want to kill you—not if I could avoid it."

By his words he seemed to imply that breaking my shoulder was the lesser of two evils; the other evil, of course, being killing me.

I didn't understand that at all.

"No, I don't buy that," I replied. "Why did it come down to that?"

Eric threw me a curious look. "Your Fae kinswoman did not tell you anything about vampire blood?"

"No," I shook my head. "Should she have?"

"Not necessarily," he shrugged. "I would've thought she would."

I squinted my eyes at him. "Well?"

"There's a magic in the blood—"

"Yes," I said impatiently. "You told me all this."

"No I didn't," he said. "I did not tell you everything."

As I stared silently at Eric, waiting for him to continue, my unspoken question hung in the air.

"My blood inside you gives me insight into your emotional state."

"What?"

"It allows me to know things about you."

"Know things…Like what?"

"Like whether you're lying to me or not."

A deathly silence reverberated as I tried to comprehend what he was telling me.

"You can tell if I'm _lying_ to you?"

"Yes," he said, nodding.

"Because I have your blood in me? That's why we went through that whole thing?"

Raising an eyebrow, Eric nodded.

"Is there anything else?" I asked, my words clipped and pained.

"I have," Eric's eyes shot past me, "insight into _all_ of your emotions. If you're afraid, angry, happy, excited..."

Feeling my blood start to boil, the _ANGRY_ emotion was clearly starting to rise to the surface. I tried to stay calm, reminding myself to take deep breaths.

"You mean like now? Standing here, like this? You can tell what I'm feeling?"

Eric didn't say a word.

"You mean like now?" I repeated.

"Yes," he paused. "But it doesn't matter where I am."

Furious, I could hear the blood flowing through my head. My breathing came out in loud, harsh pants.

"So you could be somewhere else and know what I'm feeling?"

"Yes."

"If I'm angry or happy or horny or even asleep, you'll know?"

"Yes."

"How, how," I sputtered. "_How dare you_!"

Eric shrugged. "Sookie, it's the magic; I am not responsible for its existence."

"But you did _this_ to me! _And you did it on purpose_!"

"And if I hadn't done what I did," his voice was very low, "we would not be having this conversation."

"What do you mean?"

"Think about it. I have no control over what you do, where you go, who you speak to during the day—"

"You don't have control over that at all!"

"At night, when I am awake, I can assure myself that you are keeping with your routine and your emotions are constant."

"I told you I'd keep your _damn_ secret."

"And I have the added reassurance of knowing when your heart may be filled with fear, fear of me discovering your betrayal."

"But I told you I wouldn't! Besides," I snapped, "it's not like anyone would believe me anyway! I have a ten-year medical history that says I'm a schizophrenic! If I start spouting off about knowing vampires, I'd probably be shipped off to the crazy ward in a straight-jacket."

"Well, regardless," he voice was cool and steady, "I have a barometer into your emotional state. It is a resource for me to protect my existence. As I told you before, Sookie, I do not leave things up to chance."

"Right, right." Averting my eyes away from Eric, I settled them on a photograph of my grandmother that sat on the mantle of the fireplace. _Gran_...

"My intention was never to harm you—"

"But you did," I pointed out.

"But the purpose was always to heal you."

"If all you wanted was to get some of your blood into me, you didn't have to hurt me to do it."

Eric's eyes bored into mine. "I didn't? I could've explained and you would have willingly drank my blood?"

Slightly deflated, I let out an angry, frustrated sigh; I actually didn't see myself going along with that little scenario.

"So, my choices were to kill you or to do what I did. And to be frank with you, you're still a risk to me, a risk that could easily be extinguished."

I had nothing to say to that. My heart started to race.

"Calm down, Sookie," he instructed me. "I find no pleasure in your terror; it is not my desire to harm you. As long as your intentions towards me remain," he paused, smiling —I could tell there was more behind his words— "_benign_, I am willing to accept the risk."

I concentrated on regulating my breathing. I thought of Claudine and what she suggested I do about Breandan; if I followed her advice and lead Eric on so he'd hopefully kill Breandan, would Eric be able to read my true intentions? What if I did what Claudine wanted and Breandan killed Eric instead?

At that point, I think I'd feel relief more than anything; I wouldn't have to be afraid of Eric anymore.

Unfortunately, that relief would be fleeting if Claudine wasn't able to reach me in time to save me from Breandan.

**~oooOOOooo~**

"What did you decide to do?" Amelia cocks her head as she poses her question.

"What I always do; I chose not to think of it right then." I giggle nervously. Amelia has called me on what she calls my "avoidance tendencies".

"All right…"

"Turns out I didn't have to, anyway…"

"What do you mean?"

"He left."

**~oooOOOooo~**

"Eric, I'm really tired. It's been a long day and a tough week. I was about to go to sleep. Do you mind?"

He watched me, a serious expression etched on his hard, beautiful face. "No, Sookie," he replied easily. "I don't mind leaving you to your rest."

"Thank you."

"As you wish."

As he stood outside the window, we shared a moment of silence, quietly regarding one another across the physical distance imposed by a magic I didn't understand and an emotional distance dictated by feelings just as foreign.

I watched as he moved away from the window, and disappeared in the darkness. Making my way to the window, I struggled to shut and lock it.

As good as Eric's exits were, I was confident that there would always be an encore performance.

Until I figured out a way to make it otherwise, Eric the vampire would continue to be a part of my life.

I just hoped he wouldn't be a part of my death.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you for reading. Chapter title is another Audioslave song. <strong>**Google "Thomas Galvin" and "True Blood" if you need a laugh.**

**Fangreaders: Saturday August 27th, at 4pm EST (8pm GMT). The lovely Vic Vega will be moderating. You need to have a login to participate so register by sending an email address to JecaNS.**


	9. And When You Wanted Me I Came to You

**Characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I moved them to Brooklyn because somebody needs needs to be there since I've been in Albany since June. Sigh. **

* * *

><p><strong>Thomas Galvin inspired Recap:<strong>

Claudine takes Sookie out on a midnight run to Lowes that she will not soon forget. (It was the one on 2nd Avenue, not Kings Plaza; as **FiniteAnarchy** pointed out, that would've just been _insane_.)

Eric stops by for a visit and Sookie lets the fairy out of the bag; they have a friendly disagreement over the definition of _torture_ (which actually is quite normal for non-supe Americans.)

Eric fesses up about the emotion detector part of his blood donation; Sookie is not pleased.

Sookie's rather ambivalent about Claudine's suggestion that she use Eric to protect her from Breandan and his forces.

* * *

><p><strong>~oooOOOooo~<strong>

"Were things quiet after Eric left?" Amelia asks.

I force down a snarky retort.

"Well, I went to sleep if that's what you mean…"

"The next day…?"

"The next day I realized just how big of a mess I was in..."

**~oooOOOooo~**

The following night was a busy one at the Salty Dog. Since it was Wednesday, it was karaoke night. Karaoke night usually brought in a crowd and usually meant a lot of tips. Brooklynites are nothing if not enthusiastically committed to outdoing each other in embarrassing themselves. Before his wife-imposed sobriety Andy Bellefleur was our own personal William Hung.

I usually loved Wednesdays.

But not this one.

For one thing, I was having a hard time staying focused. By the middle of my shift, it was obvious to me and probably everyone in the bar, drunks included, that my nerves were shot. I'd even jumped twice when the other bartender, my friend Arlene, brushed her hand against my arm. I'd messed up on more orders than I could possibly keep track of. Arlene had asked me twice if I felt all right, while Sam had offered to call someone to fill in for me. I couldn't really afford to miss my shift, so I declined, praying Sam would just let it drop.

As afternoon gave in to dusk, and evening became night, all I could think about was the fact that eventually my shift would end and it would be time for me to walk home.

Possibly into the waiting arms of my fairy assailant.

It didn't help that I'd had a someone-is-watching-me feeling all night.

Unfortunately, since the bar was so crowded, I wasn't able to zero in on the source of my recurring prickly sensation.

I didn't know whether it was a fairy or not.

I was, however, positive it wasn't my imagination.

I was also positive I'd be stuffing my handbag with lemons before I left, _just in case_.

When I left my apartment to head out for work, it was bright and sunny and the streets were teeming with people. In the clear blue skies of a mid-summer day, the very notion that Claudine was right—_that someone was deliberately trying to kill me_—was unimaginable. Dressed and ready to leave for work, the only thing I had left to do was make sure I had everything I needed in my handbag.

As I surveyed my recent Lowes purchases, the idea of filling my bag with iron tools and lemon juice seemed crazy.

In hindsight, the only crazy thing was my failure to do it.

_What the hell had I been thinking? _

"Sam!" I called out. "This bottle opener's iron, isn't it?"

Sam, puzzled, glanced at me from where he stood behind the cash register. "Yeah, but it's zinc plated."

_Good enough_, I thought. Nodding, I tucked it into my pocket, silently giggling to myself at my own _clandestine_ behavior.

Finally it was nearing two and we were getting ready to close.

"Last call," hollered Sam. "Last call, everybody."

The karaoke was over and the jukebox was playing. Someone had selected an Elvis Presley song and I was humming along nervously as I placed the pint glasses in the dishwasher.

I was trying to distract myself from the loud thumps my heart was making as it tried to pound its way out of my chest.

Soon it would be time for me to walk home.

I didn't even have my fairy godmother to watch over me. Claudine had taken off earlier that day on a business trip to Europe.

That was why she had reached out to warn me when she had.

That was why she had insisted we make the midnight run to Lowes.

As I thought of her meeting with fashion designers in Paris, I couldn't help but wonder: _shouldn't being a fairy godmother trump being a clothes buyer?_

I supposed I ought to be proud that I had a cousin with such an impressive job, but still, her departure left me feeling decidedly vulnerable. Maybe it was the cavalier way in which she left that prompted my own cavalier attitude.

_Maybe she'd take better care of me if we left the city? _

My grandparents—well my Gran and her husband, Mitchell Stackhouse— were originally from Upstate New York. They moved to the city when my father and Aunt Linda were little.

_Maybe it would be safer for me up there? Then again, was anywhere safe for me?_

"Sookie."

I started at the sound of someone nearby saying my name. If I hadn't recognized the voice, I probably would've screamed. Taking a deep breath, I turned around.

For once, Eric's sudden appearance was a welcome distraction.

"Hi, Eric." I saw that he was wearing jeans and a grey short-sleeved t-shirt. They looked good on him. His physique seemed made for the jeans and t-shirt combo. So far, every time I'd seen Eric he was dressed like a normal human being. It really helped him blend in. I wondered if there wasn't some kind of dress code for vampires. Shouldn't he be wearing a black cape? Or at least something less American-looking and more Old World European? Or even Eurotrashy? Maybe metrosexual? "You just missed last call." My words came out on autopilot and I nearly snickered after I'd said them. I didn't know if we had anything that Eric would drink. Scratch that. I didn't know if we _sold_ anything Eric would drink.

"Not a problem," he grinned at me. "I don't…_drink_."

"Well, this is a bar," I returned to my task of loading the glasses. "You missed karaoke night if that's your guilty pleasure."

"No, that's not what brought me to your establishment."

"_O-kay_…" I turned my head to look at him over my shoulder. "Why're you here then?"

"I'm here to walk you home." I took note of the planes of his face, which were angled and hard, and his clear, guileless eyes, a breathtaking sapphire.

It took me a second to register his words.

"What?"

"I sensed you were feeling," he paused, searching for the right word, "a little…_anxious_." He cocked his head towards me. "And I thought I'd offer to walk you home."

I felt a wave of relief so potent it nearly brought tears to my eyes. I let out a silent breath as I once more leaned over the dishwasher. Still facing away from Eric, I spent a few seconds bent over, collecting myself.

_Better the Devil you know than the Devil you don't_

I'd toyed with asking Sam to walk me home or even taking a cab but if someone—_someone not human_—were determined to get me, an additional person wouldn't deter him or her. If something happened to Sam—_assuming I survived_—I'd never forgive myself. For that matter, I took the neighborhood car service regularly and I knew a lot of the drivers by name. Most of them decorated their cars with their kids' photos and drawings. I didn't think I'd be able to forgive myself if anything happened to them because of me.

But Eric…let's just say, in the grand scheme of things, Eric was not on the top of my list of folks I'd worry about being able to take care of themselves.

"You are…_pleased_?" Straightening, I turned around. Seeing Eric's usually impassive features registering surprise, I nearly snorted in amusement.

Swallowing, I nodded. "I…um…am feeling a little nervous tonight. I wouldn't mind having someone walk me home."

"Even if it's me?"

Silently, I nodded. "I'll be ready to leave in about fifteen minutes."

The bar was mostly empty, only a handful of stragglers standing by the pool table finishing their drinks, while another group stood by the door. Eric and I exchanged silent glances as I continued my cleanup. Arlene, busy cleaning her end of the bar, was obliviously chirping into her Bluetooth.

Sam had disappeared to the office a short while earlier to do his end-of-day filing. Upon his return to the bar, Sam glanced first at me and then at Eric who was the only patron sitting down at the bar. Frowning, my boss cast a quizzical look in my direction.

"Who's that?" he mumbled under his breath. "He bothering you?"

Eric, obviously able to hear everything Sam said, turned his head to smile at him coldly.

"No, he's not bothering me, Sam," I replied in an equally hushed tone. "It's my..." My brain stumbled on how to describe Eric. _My vampire acquaintance? My blood-brother? My secret bodyguard?_ That last one sounded like a bad 1980s movie. "…my _neighbor_, Eric." My eyes shot to Eric. "Eric, this is my boss, Sam Merlotte."

"Eric." Sam made it to Eric in a few steps and held out his hand. There was something challenging in his expression.

Eric viewed Sam's proffered hand with disgust. As he made a noise that sounded like a growl Sam's smile seemed to widen in satisfaction. The tension among them—and me, by association—was so palpable, all I wanted to do was to get the hell out of there. Sam finally dropped his hand, while Eric twisted his head to gaze towards the door.

Once they seemed to drop their _alpha male posturing_, I was starting to think that maybe—_just maybe_—I would be getting my wish, when Sam burst my happy bubble.

"Sook, I just need a minute. Then you can take off with _your_ _neighbor_." Sam started to walk back towards the office.

I frowned. I didn't like Sam's tone. Although I considered him a friend, Sam had a penchant for sticking his nose into my business.

"Sure, Sam," I nodded. I threw Eric a puzzled look, to which he dramatically rolled his eyes. Surprised, I snorted in laughter, prompting Sam to jerk his head around to look back at me.

"Everything, okay, Sookie?"

"Yeah." I turned around to follow Sam. "All's good. I'm right behind you."

I started after Sam when Eric suddenly grabbed my elbow, holding me back. He laid his other hand on my cheek and spoke in a soft voice.

"Your boss is going to try to talk you out of leaving with me."

"What?" That actually seemed pretty likely given Sam's reaction. But I didn't understand how Eric was so certain, considering he'd only just met Sam. "What makes you think that?"

"He knows what I am."

That was not an answer I was expecting. "How do you know?"

"Because I know what he is."

Again, not what I expected. I swallowed a frustrated retort at the seeming riddle that was his answer; I forced myself to reply in a more measured tone. "That's not really an answer, Eric." I met his gaze. "What is he?"

"I'll explain later. You will not change your mind."

I glared at him. "You asking me or you telling me? You know that doesn't work on me..."

Raising an eyebrow, Eric's response seemed uncharacteristically humble. "I am _asking_ you."

"Funny way of asking."

"I am unused to asking."

"Is it something you can get used to?"

"With practice."

"Alrighty, then. Be right back."

As I walked away from Eric, I mentally shook myself. _Why the hell was I challenging him?_ I didn't really have time to dwell on that as Sam was waiting for me.

Once inside the back office, I could tell immediately that Sam was agitated. A sure tell was the way he ran his fingers through his reddish gold hair. His face serious, he was staring ominously at me.

"Sook, that guy? Your neighbor. He's bad news."

I'd mentally prepared for this as I'd followed Sam into the office. I had my spiel all planned out.

"Sam, Eric's just my neighbor and he came by to walk me home," I hesitated, not wanting to say too much about my _bogeyman, _Breandan. "He knows I've been a little jumpy since the subway incident. Besides, what is your problem?"

"Shit! Sook! That guy...hasn't it struck you that there's something _odd_ about him?"

I snorted. The words were out of my mouth before I'd even considered my response. "_Odd_? You mean the _glow_ or the _fangs_?"

Game, set, match: Sookie.

"_You know_?" His tone was sharp, incredulous.

"Yeah, I know," I replied quietly.

"Do you get what it means?"

"Of course, I do. I'm not an idiot, Sam."

"Well, you could've fooled me! What the hell? You dating the undead these days? Goddamit, do you realize what he's capable of? You even know how old he is?"

"I don't know. He's old, I know that much." From the accent that was at times more pronounced, he seemed rather Old World European. Sam, on the other hand, seemed pretty damn New World Sanctimonious.

"Can you even _fathom_ how many people he's killed? Innocent people?"

Well, it hadn't occurred to me to try to _fathom_ that. Of course, I knew Eric had killed people—I was kind of banking on it—but it hadn't occurred to me to try to estimate how many people he'd killed over the course of his lifetime. Deathtime. Existence.

"Sookie?"

Right. Focus.

"Sam, he's not a monster..." Well, actually, he _was_ a monster. A monster that would, hopefully, keep me safe from an even _worse_ monster. My thoughts were definitely falling a little past "off" on the dial. For the first time, I could see a similarity between myself and my newly-discovered cousin.

"He lives on human blood, Sook. What the hell qualifies as a _monster_ to you?"

I didn't have an answer to that. But I didn't owe Sam an answer.

"Sam." Exhausted, raw, and just anxious to get home, I pleaded with my eyes. "Listen. I don't know what to say to you. I..." I paused to clear my throat. "Eric is my neighbor. He's not going to hurt me. He's just walking me home."

Once I'd said my little piece, Sam and I just stood, silently contemplating each other. Moments passed. Finally, he backed down.

"You call me when you get home. Call me from inside your place." His eyes suddenly grew wide. "Shit, Sookie, have you let him inside your place?"

"No, he hasn't been inside my apartment," I admitted. "Not that that's any of _your_ business." I added heatedly.

"I'm serious, Sookie. Don't invite him in. As long as he's not invited in, he can't come in."

Wordlessly, I nodded. I waited a few beats as we fell into an awkward silence. "I'll give you a quick call when I'm home."

"Okay," Sam turned worried eyes on me. I started to walk towards the door; at Sam calling me, I stopped and spun around.

"What?"

"Don't look in his eyes. They can hypnotize people."

_How the fuck did Sam know all this?_

A wry smile on my face, I replied. "It doesn't work on me."

"What?"

"Eric tried it already," I shrugged. "It doesn't work on me."

"He knows it didn't work?"

"Of course. I wasn't gonna pretend like it did."

"But he tried! Jesus, Sookie! How can you trust him?"

"I didn't say I trusted him Sam." I said. I recognized my lie the second it was issued from my lips: I actually _did_ trust him, at least enough to see me home safely. "But I can't be glamoured and I haven't invited him inside."

Sam, speechless, glanced down as he combed his fingers through his hair before bringing his eyes back to mine.

"What the hell's wrong with you?" Incredulous, he shook his head. "You don't even have enough sense to be afraid?"

Afraid? I was _always_ afraid. I was afraid I'd hear the wrong thing or the wrong person would find out about my quirk. Notwithstanding Eric, there were humans — members of the Mafia — that were in and out of the bar on a daily basis who scared the hell out of me.

"Sam," I said coldly, "Thanks for that. Really. Anyway, I'm not surprised he tried it. It didn't work. And I tried my mind trick on him and guess what? _That_ didn't work, either."

"What?" Sam knew about my gift. It wasn't like we talked about it but we were around each other so much, it was hard to pretend it didn't exist.

"You heard me." I paused. Maybe now was the time to talk about it? Could I confide in Sam? "Sam, do you have any idea what it's like to be able to relax your mind –even for just a little while—after a lifetime of not being able to?"

Sam took a minute to consider what I'd said; in my mind, and my heart, I prayed he'd understand. But, hearing his next words, I knew I needed to just tuck my hopes away someplace deep.

"Sookie, I know it may seem like a novelty, or something good, but it's not," Sam shook his head. "_It's not worth it. It's really not_—"

"Sam." Annoyed by Sam's tone as well as by his kneejerk response to lecture me, my voice came out sharper than I'd intended. "Don't try to pretend like you know what it's like for me. Don't think I'm blind to what he is—I'm not. I'm a big girl and I don't owe you an explanation." I twisted my lips into a fake smile. "Now, Eric's waiting for me. I'll send you a text when I'm inside my apartment."

I again started to make my way to the door when something held me back. Hesitating with my hand on the doorknob, I glanced back at Sam.

"How did you know?" I asked him.

"What?

"How did you know right off the bat what he was?"

Sam let out a frustrated sigh. "I can't tell you that."

Not really satisfied with that answer, I nodded stiffly. Sam had his own secrets. I resented him for not sharing when I'd laid myself open for inspection so many times I should've had a collection of customs stamps on my forehead. Shrugging, I stalked off and returned to the bar.

With Sam's refusal to answer my question weighing heavily on my mind, I realized I was very curious to hear what Eric had to say about Sam.

I grabbed my bag from under the bar—there was no money in it—you don't grow up in a city of eight million and not learn quickly about leaving valuables unattended. I shot a pointed look at Eric to let him know we could leave.

He nodded, and stood. I made my way from around the back of the bar and together we walked towards the door.

I hadn't done it intentionally, but somehow things had worked out exactly as my fairy godmother had wanted them to.

Maybe she was watching over me after all.

* * *

><p><strong>Next: Eric walks Sookie home<strong>. (Any ROTSS readers still around? LOL. Remember the chapter where Eric and Sookie do the dishes? Yeah, it's like that.) Thank you for reading! (and reviewing...)

**THANKS**: A million thanks to the awesome (and all-round sweetheart), **slcurwin**, who performed beta duties on this chapter and the next.

**Chapter Title**: From **Audioslave's "What You Are**". Yes, I do listen to other bands.

**Fangreaders**: **Saturday August 27th, at 4pm EST (8pm GMT)**. The lovely **Vic Vega** will be moderating. Participants must register at least 24 hours in advance so please send an email address to **JecaNS**. I know it's a Saturday and you all probably have more fun things you could be doing, but I'd love to see you there! Maybe if you bring a bottle of Reisling, it'll seem more festive?


	10. A Truant Finds Home, a Wish to Hold On

**Characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I just moved them to Brooklyn. **

* * *

><p><strong>Thomas Galvin inspired Recap:<strong>

With fairy godmother Claudine out of town on important fashion business, Sookie eschews her Fairy Deterrent purchases on her way to work. As a result, she finds herself a jumble of nerves as she waits for her shift to end at the Salty Dog.

Eric senses Sookie's fear and meets her at the bar, offering to walk her home. He is surprised when she gratefully accepts his offer.

Eric and Sam engage in alpha male posturing (more like beta male posturing on Sam's part); Sam does his best to warn Sookie about vampires and succeeds in attacking her intelligence in the process.

Eric reveals to Sookie that there's more to Sam than meets the eye.

* * *

><p><strong>~oooOOOooo~<strong>

"So Eric walked you home?" asks Amelia.

"Yep," I reply.

"You're here, so I know he didn't hurt you…"

I avert my eyes and stare at a folk art painting of a cat. "Yeah, something like that…"

Amelia throws me a confused look. I wish I could explain but I can't. That's why I come to her.

**~oooOOOooo~**

Once Eric and I were outside on Third Avenue, instead of feeling vulnerable, I felt an overwhelming sense of relief. Closing my eyes, I took a moment to inhale and exhale a few times. The crisp, cool air danced on my skin, reminding me how much I loved cool summer nights. The humidity that had been hanging over the city had, thankfully, lifted. Mirroring my own sense of well-being, the city felt cool, calm and collected. Opening my eyes I saw that Eric was watching me, his lips upturned in a smirk. Feeling self-conscious, I responded with a nervous smile.

"What? What're you grinning at?"

Still smiling, he shook his head and took a step in the direction of my apartment.

"I'm not grinning at you in a way that's insulting. I'm merely intrigued by you."

"Intrigued, huh?" Shaking my head, I took a few steps to catch up with him. "I'm sorry but I definitely don't warrant '_intrigued_.' I'm far from fascinating. If that's what you think and that's what keeps you coming 'round. You should know that I actually lead a pretty dull life."

Eric chuckled. "Not that easy to get rid of me, Sookie."

"Figured it was worth a shot," I mumbled.

Quietly, we made our way down the avenue, encountering a few other late night pub crawlers along the way. Glancing at Eric I realized I still needed to ask him something.

"Hey," I started and, watched silently as Eric's eyes cut over to meet mine. "Why'd you come by tonight, anyway? You said you sensed I was nervous?"

Thoughtfully he nodded. "Yes," he said. "I sensed your fear. And I needed to assure myself it had nothing to do with me."

"Oh," I replied, my voice low. "Guess you were surprised that it _didn't_ have anything to do with you."

"Yes, surprised but pleased. I don't want you to fear me, Sookie." His smiled sardonically. "At least not any more than is necessary."

"_Right_…" My response fell off my lips; the moment passed into an awkward silence. I was wondering just how lucky it was for me that my feelings had nothing to do with Eric. I dared not dwell on what would have been the case otherwise.

"I should like to learn more about your gift—"

"What exactly do you want to know?" I asked, rather curtly. I knew it was rude to interrupt but there was a point I wanted to make. "My "_gift"_—as _you_ call it—has caused me more grief than you can possibly imagine."

Eric stopped walking and turned to face me, his smile gone. I had no choice but to stop as well.

"Are you quite certain of that?" he asked me. "I have quite the imagination."

Suddenly uneasy, it occurred to me that I may have said the wrong thing.

_Was it possible to offend a vampire? _

"I don't know what you can imagine. I guess you've seen a lot over the years and a lot of that has been pretty awful." I paused and he just watched me, waiting. "As for me, I'm twenty-five. And I may not have seen much but I know what it's like to live most of your life feeling _alone and_ _afraid_."

My voice cracking, I was suddenly hit with a visceral wave of despair. Choking down a sob, I turned away from Eric. I felt like I'd been doing so well with Eric since that first night on the fire escape; I didn't want to mess things up by allowing him to see me cry. I picked up my pace, but didn't make it very far. In a second, Eric was beside me, his fingers tightly grasping my good arm.

"Why?" he asked.

I stared at him, my eyes wide.

_How could he not realize what it was like for me? _

"_Are you kidding?_ I'm scared to death I'll hear the wrong thing one day. Someone'll figure out what I am." In a lower voice, I continued. "There's some not very nice people in the world, in case you hadn't noticed."

Eric let out a harsh bark of laughter as he let his hand fall from my arm. "Touché, Miss Stackhouse." He fixed his eyes on me; under the harsh yellow glow of the streetlights, I could tell he was far from amused. "I'm quite aware of this. I'm only sorry that you are as well."

"_Thanks_," I replied with more than a touch of sarcasm.

"Is that why you were afraid tonight?"

I sighed. Did I want to confide in Eric my whole_ fairy tale _saga? No. At least, not yet.

If I invented some other story to explain why I was afraid, would he know I was lying? My gut was telling me _yes_…

"No," I finally answered. "Not really. But I don't want to talk about that." As Eric seemed to accept my answer, I decided it was a good time to change the subject. "You know they busted half the neighborhood in January?"

"They?" he asked.

"The Feds. The FBI. They arrested like more than a hundred people for having connections to the mob."

Eric digested my newsflash with a lift of his eyebrow. "No, I actually hadn't been aware of that. How very…" Eric paused, staring off into space, "_1930s_."

Caught off-guard by Eric's joke, I snorted. "Hey! Don't diss Brooklyn. We may not always be current, but at least we're ahead of Queens and Staten Island."

Eric grinned at me again, and by his expression, I knew he was genuinely amused this time. My apparent ability to assess his true feelings gave me pause: _Just how well did I know this vampire?_ That was something I'd have to think about.

"Your borough rivalries remind me of our vampire turf wars."

"Stop!" I held up my hand. "Don't say another word! I don't want to know anything about your turf issues." Eric complied with my request and was quiet.

As we resumed making our way down Third Avenue towards the water, we fell into an oddly comfortable silence. Finally, out of the corner of my eye. I saw Eric cast a sideways glance in my direction; I wasn't surprised when he spoke again.

"How did you come by your fairy blood?"

"Oh, you know," I treated him to my Crazy Sookie smile. "The usual way…"

"You enjoy being evasive," he chuckled.

"No more than you," I shot back. "Besides, like I said before: My life really isn't all that interesting. Personally, I'm more curious about Sam at this point." To underscore my words, I gave him a pointed look. "And _you_ said you'd _tell_ me about him?"

Eric nodded; without preamble and without slowing his gait, he gave me my answer. "Your boss is a shifter."

"A _shifter_?" As in _shape shifter_? Sci-Fi and fantasy and folklore and all that? My brain grappled with Eric's revelation.

"He is not only human. He can change forms. He can change into other creatures."

Shocked, I sucked in a breath. I stopped walking and just stood there, my mouth hanging open.

"_What the fuck_?" I cried out.

I'd known Sam for nearly five years. Finding out he was a shapeshifter, that he could change into other creatures was definitely the most startling revelation I'd had to date. Considering I'd recently discovered that both vampires and fairies were real, that I was part-fairy, and had fairy relatives engaged in some kind of a grudge match, that was saying a lot.

"Like what? What does he change into?" I asked before it dawned on me: _did I really want to know? _

"I believe a dog..."

"_A dog? What the …_?" I just stood there, staring at Eric who stood on the sidewalk a few steps ahead of me. "You mean like 'woof woof'"?

A sly smile on his face, he nodded. "Yes, 'woof woof.' Lifting his leg to urinate. Sniffing his own genitals. Sniffing others'..."

I held up a hand to let him know he needed to shut up. I brought my hand up to my forehead and rubbed my temple.

"I don't understand." I sighed, my voice echoing confusion and defeat. "I don't understand _any of this_."

Eric doubled back to where I stood. His clear-eyed gaze washed over me. I figured I was wrong, but I thought I detected something akin to sympathy in his eyes.

"Do you understand this?" He gently grazed my forehead with his finger.

I shook my head.

"Yet, you know it to be true."

"Yeah, well," I snickered. "It's kinda hard to ignore."

"There are different kinds of magic in the universe, Sookie." He tugged on my elbow and we started walking again. "The magic that gives me life after a thousand years. That gives your boss his alternative form. That gives you an extra sense."

Did Eric just tell me he was a thousand years old? Damn.

"Can you explain it?"

Eric gave me his lopsided grin before shaking his head. "I can explain the magic that wrought me no better than I can explain air or trees. I could tell you how I became what I am. I could tell you what can destroy me; what cannot." He threw me a roguish smile; watching him, I realized I could tell the slight difference in the way he'd quirk his eyebrow when he was surprised from the way he'd lift it when making a point. "I could explain the mechanics. But why? Why is it so?" He shook his head. "This I cannot explain."

"Hmm. Okay."

"Okay?" I nearly tittered as I watched as the eyebrow went up.

"Well, if that's all you got, that's all you got. Doesn't do me any good to go on about it, does it?"

"No, I suppose not."

"That does kinda explain some things, though."

"What?"

"Sam's brain was always different. Gnarly, hard to read. Colors, images, not so much words. I never understood why."

"Have you noticed others like him?"

"A few," I peered at him. "I've noticed others like you, too."

That surprised him. He stopped walking and pulled me towards him.

"When? Recently? At your bar?" His words were sharp, not angry but concerned?

I shook my head. "Not recently. Maybe a year ago. It was out somewhere else. Another bar in the neighborhood." It had been at the Blue Zoo Lounge. Tara had dragged me there in the hopes I'd meet someone.

"What did they look like?"

"It was a girl. Long blonde hair. Blue eyes."

He grinned. "Perhaps Pam."

"Who's Pam?"

"My child."

"You have a daughter?" I was beyond confused.

"My vampire offspring. I made her a vampire."

"How do you know it was her?"

"I don't," he shrugged. "But she visited last year and she fits your description."

"How old is she?"

"About 200." Eric seemed to give my question a second thought. "But in her human form, she looks about 19-20."

"Really? Wow!" We were more than halfway to my apartment by that time. As we walked, we'd pass others making their way home or out to the late-night clubs. Although we were talking mostly in hushed tones, every now and then, in expressing my surprise, my voice would unintentionally go higher. I was relieved that Eric seemed to take this in stride and didn't make a big deal of it. But, then again, maybe he'd memorized the faces of the folks we passed that he thought might've overheard something questionable. Maybe he planned on visiting with them later either to glamour them or to do something else. Something worse. I sincerely hoped not but I didn't want to dwell on it. Not cold, I shivered.

Eric, sensing the train of my thoughts no doubt, shot me a curious look.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine." I nodded. "So Pam is your _child_. Do you have other...? Others? Who is your...family?" I stumbled on the word _children_. Grow up, Sookie. Everyone says it takes a village. This is just a little stranger than your average village.

Eric, meanwhile, seemed to get a kick out of my question.

"Who is my family!" He grinned at me. "What a charming question. We tend to live in nests. Our nestmates may or may not be related. For instance, Pam and I lived together for many years."

"But not anymore?"

"No," he shook his head. "I live alone now."

Nodding, I tried to think of my next question. After a few moments of silence, Eric asked,

"No more questions?"

I mimicked his quirked eyebrow at him. "I've always got questions," I laughed.

"Lay it on me, then." That, I thought, was a perfect example of something I'd been wondering about: _Lay it on me_.

"If you're as old as dirt," I smiled at his chuckle, "how do you stay current on slang and idioms? Like _'lay it on me'_?"

"A constant challenge. Movies, radio, school. Fitting in can mean a matter of life and death. The ability to adapt is critical to my survival."

So matter-of-fact was his answer, it belied its seriousness. Something about his words struck me, though. All of a sudden, it hit me: Eric and I were alike in a very basic way. We both were faced with a constant struggle to fit in, to adapt, and to cover up our true natures.

Speaking of adapting…there was something that had continued to gnaw at me. There was a point I had to make. I wasn't sure how receptive Eric would be to it, but I knew I needed to make it regardless.

"Eric," I started. "You know you really didn't have to break my shoulder."

Eric sighed and I couldn't help but notice how absolutely normal it sounded.

"Sookie, we've been through this. It was a matter of using my resources to mitigate a risk to the point that I felt comfortable—"

"Yeah, I get _why_ you wanted what you wanted," I said. "I'm just saying you didn't have to break my shoulder to _get_ what you wanted."

Puzzled Eric stared at me. "What are you saying?"

Placing my index finger and my thumb on the bridge of my nose, I shut my mouth. Eric watched as seconds passed. Finally, needing to draw in a breath, my mouth exploded open.

Eric looked at me silently, thoughtfully. Just when I'd given up on the idea of him saying something, he spoke.

"Ah, I believe I see your point." He finally said. "You are of the opinion that I used excessive force."

"Yeah," I nodded. "I figured a demonstration would help."

"Perhaps you are right..."

We continued our walk in silence after that. It was a bizarre thing to take satisfaction from, but Eric had actually conceded that breaking my shoulder might've been unnecessary. I found myself pleased.

I'd debated someone who had a clear advantage: many more years of practice debating —975 to be exact— and I'd won.

There was, however, one more thing…

"I forgot to ask you the most important question."

"What is that?"

"How did you know to find me at the Salty Dog? I never told you where I worked."

"True, you did not."

I expected him to say more but when he didn't, I continued. "Are you gonna tell me?"

"I will tell you, Sookie." He'd come to a stop; looking up, I caught a glimpse of myself in the his stark blue eyes. "We have reached your home."

Turning to look behind me, I realized—surprisingly to my chagrin—we were standing outside the front door of my building.

I wasn't ready for our conversation to end.

Acting on an insane impulse, the words flew out of my mouth before I could reel them in.

"You want to come up to the fire escape? We could continue talking through the window."

Eric's face broke into a big smile. "No, Sookie. I have business to attend to this night."

Nodding, I realized I felt a pang of regret. _What the…?_ My disappointment must've been apparent—either on my face or in my blood. Eric caught on and it spurred him to make a new offer.

"Sookie, we can continue our talk tomorrow night. I can walk you home again. What time do you get off work? Same as this night?"

"Um, yeah. I should be ready to go by two again."

Eric nodded. "I will see you then, Sookie."

The next minute played like a movie. Detached, I watched as Eric lowered his head and brought his lips to mine; a relatively chaste kiss—his mouth never opened—I still felt a slow heat pulsate from my lips all the way down my spine. Ending the kiss, he brushed his lips across my cheek before settling them briefly into the curve of my neck. Feeling something sharp, I knew his fangs had dropped.

"Don't bite me," I whispered.

"Of course not, Sookie." He kissed my neck lightly before pulling away. "I would not want you unwilling."

Smiling, I shook my head. "Bullshit. You were ready the night we met to take your meal. It just so happens since I can't be glamoured, you have to work it out with me first."

Eric continued to stare at me; he seemed surprised that I was challenging him. Or surprised by something else?

"That may have been true that first night but now I do not want you like that. I want only to smell your desire, not your fear."

Silently I nodded. I couldn't be glamoured but maybe having Eric's blood inside me made me more susceptible to his influence? I was more than a little amazed by the fact that not only hadn't I felt afraid of _him_ during our walk, but I was so drawn into our conversation, I'd even forgotten to worry about my fairy stalker.

Eric looked on as I let myself into my building. I saw him still standing there, outside the glass doors, as I made my way to the elevator. Once upstairs in my apartment, I walked over to the living room window. Glancing down, I saw a figure standing just beyond the courtyard gate.

He'd waited to make sure I'd made it safely into my apartment.

I waved, letting him know I was okay.

I watched as he waved back and then turned and disappeared into the night.

My secret bodyguard indeed.

* * *

><p><strong>AN<strong>: Thank you for reading! (and reviewing…*wink*) Google "Bay Ridge" and "mafia bust" if you're curious about the "inspiration" for the back story.

**THANKS**: We continue to owe fealty to **slcurwin** for beta duties and plot support.

**Chapter Title**: From **Pearl Jam's** "**Immortality**."

**Fangreaders**: **Saturday August 27th, at 4pm EST (8pm GMT)**. The lovely **Vic Vega** will be moderating. Participants must register at least 24 hours in advance so please send an email address to **JecaNS**. It's not specific to any story, it's open to any topic. Sookehverse. Stackhouse Six. Dead Man. Good opportunity to lobby for the sequel you'd like to see written first.


	11. How My Heart Behaves

**Characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I just moved them to Brooklyn. It's actually pretty ironic that they're living there while I'm not anymore. **

* * *

><p>~oooOOOooo~<p>

"What did you feel when Eric kissed you?" asks Amelia.

"What did I feel…" I repeat. "You mean physically?"

"No, Sookie," Amelia shakes her head. "Not physically."

Of course she doesn't mean that; that would be too simple a question. That question I could answer. I sigh.

"I felt strange, but okay. Maybe strangely okay?" I smile awkwardly. Sometimes I wonder why I put myself through this.

~oooOOOooo~

The next night Eric came to the bar to walk me home—just like he said he would.

It had been a long night. I was still feeling anxious over my unknown fairy assailant. Although the situation struck me as incredible, I couldn't help but recognize it was a feeling of relief that flooded me—_not fear_—when Eric walked through the door of the bar a little before two.

After a brief inner debate—the memory of Eric hurting me was forever lurking in the recesses of my mind—I ruefully chalked my changing feelings towards him to the simple fact that—while a part of me still feared Eric—a much bigger part of me feared the unknown fairy threat more.

Sam, of course, made a face when he saw Eric; but I had neither the energy nor the inclination to placate my boss. I'd kept my promise to him the previous night, texting him once I was safely inside my apartment. I didn't owe him any more than that.

As it turned out, that text message had been the last real exchange I'd had with Sam. Since I'd gotten to the bar, aside from alerting him when we were running low on supplies, I hadn't made much of an effort to speak to Sam. In turn, he hadn't gone out of his way to talk to me. Early in the afternoon, Sam, noticing how uncharacteristically quiet I was being, asked how I was feeling. How I was feeling was a little _punchy_. I toyed with replying "dog-tired" just to see his reaction. I settled on "a little tired."

Still processing the revelation that Sam was a _shape-shifter_, I caught myself staring at my boss in the quiet moments trying to picture him as a dog. I couldn't think of a breed off the top of my head that I thought befit him so I Googled New York City's most popular dog breeds. I had no idea as to what criteria would motivate such a decision, but I figured Sam would want to blend in with the rest of the New York City pups.

Yorkshire Terrier – Given his shaggy hairdo and the loveable way he stuck his nose in my business, I could totally see Sam as a yelpy Yorkshire Terrier. Four barks.

Labrador Retriever – Sam definitely shared the earnestness Labradors were known for. Also I couldn't help but recognize he'd make a good narc. Five barks.

German Shepherd – German Shepherds were very proud, even officious; yep, I could see Sam as a German Shepherd. Five barks.

Bulldog – The way he seemed to jump around when agitated—he was very expressive with his hands—did remind me of a Bulldog. Four barks.

So Labrador Retriever or German Shepherd it was.

It was, admittedly, an insane little game to be playing. But, then again, it was an insane little situation, wasn't it?

_How could Sam be a shifter? _

_How could Sam be a shifter and not tell __**me**__ he was a shifter? _

As for what the appropriate next step was, I was stymied. Was I supposed to acknowledge to Sam that I knew what he was? Maybe he already knew I knew? (Assuming shifters knew that vampires could recognize them for what they were in the same way shifters recognized vampires, maybe Sam assumed Eric had already blown the roof off the doghouse?)

With Eric's arrival, I had to curtail the energy I'd been devoting to pondering the Sam question.

Instead, I was confronted with another question: Should I confide in Eric about Breandan? For that matter, should I confide in Eric about this mysterious Niall Brigant who was my unknown great-grandfather?

_Fairies_.

_Me. _

_I _was part-fairy.

I still hadn't come to terms with my newly discovered lineage. Truth was I hadn't had much time to think about it. I certainly had questions. The very idea that my Gran had messed around on my granddad was unthinkable. The one person who could possibly give me the answers I needed—my cousin, Claudine—was still away on business. Even if Claudine were around, there's no telling how honest she'd be with me. Even if she were "truthful", her "truth" might be different from reality.

What if fairies were the Shemp of the supernatural creatures? The low man on the Totem Pole?

How would I ever find out if it was cool to be part-fairy?

What if it was actually lame?

Since the revelation had brought me nothing but trouble so far, I was pretty much leaning towards lame.

Frustrated, I let out a loud sigh.

"Are you ready, Sookie? I'd like to leave before the shifter turns on the lights."

I realized I'd been staring blankly at Eric. The sound of his voice jarred me from my reverie. Playing back his words in my mind, I thought them odd, but didn't feel like asking him what he meant right then. Instead I nodded and grabbed my bag from where it was stashed behind the bar.

"Yep, I'm good to go." I turned to look over at Sam. "Sam, I'm leaving!"

Sam, glaring, just nodded.

I said quick goodbyes to Arlene—her nostrils flared when she spied Eric—and Terry, the bouncer and Arlene's on-again, off-again whatever.

Finally, with Eric in tow, I steered us out the front door, past the late-night hangers on congregated in front of the bar, and together we began our trek up Third Avenue.

Realizing that I still had my hand firmly planted on Eric's elbow, I smiled self-consciously and dropped my hand.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

Eric just threw me a bemused glance. "You don't have to apologize for holding onto me, Sookie," he grinned.

"Um, well, I figure you're old enough you don't want some girl pulling you along."

Eric, _very_ amused by that, chuckled. "This is true," he nodded. "I am old enough that I don't want _some girl_ pulling me along." Stopping, he turned me to face him before dipping his face down to kiss me.

Cursing how good a kisser he was, I fought the instinct to return the kiss.

_He broke your shoulder_, I reminded myself. _He's a monster, a killer_.

But my words fell on deaf ears. They did nothing to diminish my desire and only succeeded in making me feel guilty—_guiltier_—for having that desire in the first place. Frowning, I fixed my eyes on the sidewalk as we walked, each of us lost in our thoughts.

"Why'd you do that?" I asked finally, peering sideways at him. "Why'd you kiss me?"

As I watched his profile, I caught a flicker of surprise flash across his face.

"_Because I wanted to…"_ he answered, considering.

"You always do what you want?"

"I usually don't have a problem with it," he replied dryly, smirking at me.

Shaking my head, I turned my attention forward, focusing on the cracks in the sidewalk's concrete slabs. We fell into a not uncomfortable silence.

"So…" I sensed Eric's eyes on me as he spoke and peered over to meet his gaze. "You are part fairy. Does the shifter know?"

It was my turn to smirk. No, the _shifter_ did not know he had a part-fairy barmaid. I toyed with never telling Sam. It would be just payback for him keeping his little "secret" from me.

"No, he doesn't know." I bit my lip. "Nobody knows. Only the Fairy relations."

"Your brother—?"

I shook my head. "Nope."

"Is he Fae?"

According to Claudine, Jason was as much "Fae" as I was, but for some reason, the associated traits hadn't manifested themselves as strongly in him as they had in me. This fact would protect Jason in the end as Breandan and his forces were not aware of him and even if they were aware of him, he apparently wasn't worth their effort. Me, on the other hand, was a different story. I was special.

_Hooray_?

_Unspecial_ Jason lacked fairy characteristics and had blood that didn't belie his nature. _He wasn't in danger_.

_Me_, however…

Again. Lame.

"He's my full-brother if that's what you're asking," I replied cannily. "It's my turn for a question," I said and watched as Eric nodded in acquiescence. "Have you always been a vampire?"

"No," he shook his head. "I was human for a brief time, long ago."

"What did you do back then?"

Silently, Eric pondered my question. "I was, as Americans refer to today, a _Viking_."

A _Viking_? What the hell? I felt my eyes grow huge. Drawings from sophomore year history textbooks flashed before my eyes. Eric had told me he was a thousand years old but somehow the number had been abstract to me, ungrounded. Him being a Viking, however, was something I could relate to. _That_ _was_ a long time ago. I said the first thing that popped into my head.

"Here I was thinking that you were old enough to not want me pulling you around, and it turns out you're like _the oldest_!"

Eric laughed out loud at this. Glancing at me, he seemed less amused by what I said and more amused by how I said it.

"I assure you I'm not the oldest. And I find pleasurable pursuits to keep me young." A smile played at his lips before he became all business.

"My turn for a question. Who knows your secret?"

"About my quirk?"

He stared at me, eyebrow raised. "How many secrets do you have?"

"Not a whole lot, but more than one."

"Obviously," he snorted. "I am, now, however, referring to your _quirk_ as you call it."

Mulling over whether it was more important to keep it secret who knew about my telepathy or to build good faith with Eric, I decided on the latter.

"My brother knows. Sam knows. My friend Tara knows and my friend Arlene knows something is different about me, but I think she thinks I'm psychic. The only person I ever talked to about it was my Gran."

"Have you ever used it for your personal advantage?"

"Damn! What a good question," I remarked, grinning. "Too bad it's my turn." I was starting to have fun with this game. I was looking forward to getting an answer to my unanswered question from the night before.

"Fine. Your turn." Eric treated me to a crooked smile.

"You never told me how you knew where to find me last night?" There it was.

His smiled cracked. Slowly Eric nodded, like he was weighing his response. I just watched him, waiting, a knot of tension slowly building in my chest. His response was taking longer than I thought it would.

"Well?" I prodded. New Yorkers aren't known for their patience.

"Our blood..."

"Whose? Yours and mine?"

"Yes and no," Eric said, his eyes steadily focused on mine. "_Our_ blood—_vampires'_ blood. You drank from me the first night we met. The fact that my blood is commingled with yours allows me to sense your location."

My jaw dropped. "No shit!"

"No shit," he replied, his voice serious.

"Okay… So what it is…is like vamp GPS."

Silently I chewed on that as we walked. Initially intrigued, it didn't take long for the novelty to wear off.

"You can track me now. You'll always know where I am." There was plaintive quality to my voice. I didn't bother to disguise it.

"Yes," he nodded, cutting his eyes sideways to look at me.

I cleared my throat.

Cure-all Robitussin.

Emotional magic 8-ball.

GPS tracker.

What else did this miracle elixir do?

I wanted to know.

I deserved to know.

I stopped walking. Eric followed my lead.

"Eric, is there anything else? Is there anything else your blood does?" Looking into his eyes, I could tell there was more. Don't ask me how I knew; I just did. "Eric?"

"Yes," he nodded.

Silently I waited him out. He was obviously hesitant to say anything more. I decided to try another route.

"You know how I'm feeling now?"

"You're angry and frightened," he shrugged. "But I didn't need the blood. I could tell by the look on your face and the tone of your voice."

Unwilling to be placated, I just shook my head. I had experienced such a rollercoaster of emotions—that he could settle on angry and frightened seemed like an abridged version—like Cliff notes.

"I told you the truth. I could have lied. Can't you give me credit for that?"

He was right; he could've lied about any part of it. He could've lied about everything.

But he hadn't.

Why the hell didn't he just lie to me? It wasn't like I'd know any better.

"Why didn't you lie?"

"I didn't want to." Eric seemed uncomfortable. He resumed walking and I followed, widening my strides to keep up.

I put my hand on his wrist, stopping him. "Why?"

His eyes on mine, Eric shrugged. "It is a preference. I decided I would prefer to not lie to you."

"Will you always tell me the truth?"

"When I can."

"When you can't?"

"I'll keep my words to a minimum." Eric resumed walking; my hand fell away from his arm as I followed suit.

Incredible. For some unfathomable reason, Eric wanted to be honest with me. It was making me feel a little guilty for my one whopper of a secret I'd been holding close to my chest.

I wondered if he, too, was a mind reader as he managed to zero in on my thoughts.

"Sookie, why were you so filled with fear last night?"

It was my turn to hesitate. "I have family problems."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Eric turn to look at me.

"You have no family but your brother." He reconsidered. "You have no _human_ family but your brother. Your problem is with the Fae."

I didn't say anything but I'm sure the truth was spelled out on my face.

"So tell me, Sookie," Eric said. "What is the problem?"

Swallowing hard, I told myself it was time. "There's kind of a family feud going on. My great-grandfather has a relative who's angry at him." I sighed. "It was that relative who had someone push me onto the subway tracks."

Shocked, Eric stopped walking to gape at me; I returned his look. That I was being targeted by a fairy assassin was clearly _not_ the revelation Eric had been expecting.

I could easily see how he'd managed to stay alive so long with his next question.

"Sookie," he said gently, his eyes never wavering from my own, "who is your great-grandfather?"

I know I wasn't glamoured but in that instant, I did feel hypnotized. My nerves jangled by the truths I was forced to reveal, my breaths echoed loudly in the relative stillness of the quiet city street. My words sounded distant and foreign. "His name is Niall Brigant."

A flicker of recognition crossed Eric's face. Silently he ruminated over what I'd told him until he finally spoke.

"You are related to Niall…"

"Yes."

"I have known Niall for hundreds of years."

My eyes shot open at that. I hadn't even considered fairies aged differently. Claudine appeared to be about thirty. Now, I wasn't sure.

Eric and I continued to walk, in silence as I puzzled over the true age—the true foreignness—of my fairy relations and he pondered my family tree reveal.

"You are fearful this Brigant feud will result in your death."

"My cousin Claudine said Breandan—he's the one warring with my great-grandfather—is especially angry about half-breeds. Those of us who are part-human." I sighed again. "I'm a target."

"Breandan is the one who pushed you?"

I shook my head. "He has…" What was the appropriate term to describe Breandan's "go-to killers"? "He has _minions_ to do his bidding. It was someone named Lochlan—"

Eric stopped walking and his head jerked at my utterance of Lochlan's name; mutely he stared at me. Nervous at his reponse, I fell momentarily silent before forcing myself to speak again.

"Do you know Lochlan, Eric?"

Nodding, he answered, "Yes, Lochlan is well-known. He and his mate, Neave, are known for enjoying torture."

My eyes wide, I gulped and turned to face forward as we once again resumed our pace.

"This is why you are afraid." It wasn't a question.

"Yes." My answer wasn't really necessary.

"You fear them more than you fear me." Again, not a question.

"Yes." Again, unnecessary.

"You are right in this." Without looking at me, Eric took my hand in his. Unbidden, my fingers tightened around his.

"I know," I whispered.

~oooOOOooo~

"How were you so certain about trusting Eric, Sookie?" asks Amelia.

My eyes fill with tears as I look up at her and shrug. _I wasn't. _

"It's not like I had much of a choice, Amelia."

Silently, Amelia nods. Usually she starts to get it by this point.

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading. Chapter title is the alternative title of the 13th track on Audioslave's first album. I think it really captures the mood of the chapter. <strong>

**Thanks to everyone who stopped by the Fangreaders forum on August 27. I recall those pre-Irene days with fondness. Thank you for sticking with me. I'm home for a few days and I'm going to concentrate on writing. Forgive me for not replying to reviews. I'll go back and reply once Hurricane season is done. Promise. **


	12. Can I Be Here All Alone?

**Characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I just moved them to Brooklyn. I did throw some local characters in there for my own amusement. **

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><p>Over the next few days, Eric settled into his role as my bodyguard. My concerns about being deceitful in using him seemed unwarranted in retrospect. After debating telling him about the fairy threat, I wound up telling him the truth. Whatever his motivations, Eric, without fanfare, took on the responsibility of watching over me.<p>

I didn't understand it. I didn't understand _why_. I had misgivings that eventually he'd ask for a return on the favor but since I was happily still alive, I couldn't bring myself to dwell on those misgivings.

Besides, as I kept reminding myself, Claudine would be home soon.

I wished I could take more comfort in that knowledge, but still I felt uneasy.

In the meantime, the questions I'd wanted to ask Eric—what he knew about fairies in general and what he knew about Niall and the Brigants in particular—went unasked.

~oooOOOooo~

"Why didn't you ask Eric what you wanted to know, Sookie? Were you afraid?" As Amelia poses this question, I hear a tinge of curiosity in her voice.

"You won't believe me," I reply.

"Sookie," Amelia smiles with a slight chuckle. "You can't possibly believe that. I," she reaches out and takes my hand, "_I _do believe you. You know that, right?"

Smiling, I nod as my eyes fill with tears. This must be the last time I see Amelia. Six times is six times too many.

"We just found other things to talk about. The walk from the Salty Dog to my apartment is only fifteen minutes. We seemed to be good at stretching it to thirty-forty minutes, but we always filled up the time." I sniffle as I feel tears start their downward cascade, flowing to my smile-stretched lips.

Bemused and confused, Amelia gives me a strange look.

"What on earth did you talk about?"

I shrug as I wipe the tears from my face, still grinning. "_Everything_?"

~oooOOOooo~

My conversations with Eric bounced around all over the place, from lighthearted conversations about local New York City stuff, pop culture, and Viking history and mythology to more sober discussions about human—or not so human—nature.

Between Eric being a thousand and me being a mind reader…Well, let's just say we had a lot of unique insights into the individual psyche. Some of the stuff I talked about with him, I wouldn't have wanted to discuss with any of my friends. I didn't want to burst any happy bubbles for anyone who still held onto faith that good could overcome evil.

In any case, while we may never have had the same conversation twice, two things did remain constant starting after the second time Eric walked me home.

The first was that Eric started carrying a heavy knife that I assumed must have been made of iron. He hadn't made a point of showing it to me but I felt it the next night when he greeted me with a hug and a kiss—that in itself was becoming another odd commonplace occurrence. Curious at the hardness I felt along his chest, I peeked inside his jacket.

"Is that a knife or are you just happy to see me?" I joked as Eric and I stood just beyond the entrance of the bar.

"Both, my Sookie. Both," he replied guilelessly as his eyes captured mine.

Caught off-guard by his response, my breathing hitched. For seemingly the millionth time the fear that I was getting in over my head flashed in my mind. I took comfort in reminding myself of a fact that was increasingly becoming my mantra: Claudine was due home soon and she would resume her responsibilities as my fairy godmother and protector. Eric had dutifully protected me from the fairies, but I didn't know who was protecting me from Eric.

Certainly, it was beyond my ability.

Not when I found myself drowning in the pools of his eyes, so bright and full of passion and humor.

The second _constant_ was that after the second night he walked me home, Eric insisted I not leave my apartment without the items Claudine forced me to buy. On the third night, he even gave me a demonstration by the promenade.

"You must get the lemon inside their mouth for it to kill. Otherwise it's ineffective."

"Yeah, yeah," I nodded. "That's why I bought a squirt pistol and not a supersoaker," I joked.

"_Sookie_…" He raised an eyebrow as he glanced at me. I wasn't taking it seriously enough for him.

"_Eric_…" I mimicked his tone.

He went through my handbag to make sure everything was placed in a way so that I could grab what I needed in a heartbeat. He showed me how to angle the screwdriver to ensure a kill whether my hit was aimed at the heart, the neck, or (gross) the face. Eric called me on my squeamishness as I fought nausea at the thought of actually piercing someone in the face with a screwdriver.

"They don't care, Sookie. You mustn't care. I'm certain the subway incident was just a game of cat and mouse to them."

Huh? Cat and mouse? "But I almost _died_."

"_Almost_."

"You mean he didn't really intend for me to die."

Eric nodded. "Of course, if you had died, you died. All the more worse for the one to come after you. But knowing what I do of Lochlan and Neave…" He paused and his eyes glowed in the moonlight as they met mine. "Once their victim ceases breathing, their fun is over."

I sobered up quickly at his words. "What do they...?"

"Bite, cut, tear flesh from the bone."

Horrified, I forced the words from my lips. "Once their victim is dead?" I knew the answer and I was willing to bet that _that_ wasn't it.

Eric's hand came up to my face; his thumb gently caressed my cheek. I fought the urge to pull his palm before my lips and kiss it.

"No, my Sookie."

Eric dipped his head forward and laid a chaste kiss on my lips. My uninjured arm wrapped around his back as he lowered his hand and locked both arms around my waist. Grazing his cheek along mine, he buried his face into the crook of my neck, laying feather light kisses along my neck and shoulder.

Breathing him in, I recognized his scent: Ulysses. I thought it suited him. Underneath the cologne, he smelled dry, clean. Since he didn't have pheromones he didn't sweat. Giddy, I nearly laughed aloud at my musings. Maybe New York City needed more vampires, especially during the summer months. Even though I avoided public transit like the plague on account of my telepathy—taking cabs, car service or gypsy vans instead—even I knew how "ripe" they could be during warm weather months.

We stood there locked in an embrace, my head resting comfortably against his chest. Fascinated, I noted silence alone where a human heart should've beat.

"I knew I'd grow on you," said Eric.

"Like mold," I teased.

Eric snorted. "It doesn't matter how it happened, it only matters that it has."

Eric's words brought me up short. What exactly was I doing? _What had happened?_ I had to stop whatever was happening from happening.

"Eric, this can't happen." I started to pull away.

"Why not?" Eric's arms tightened.

"You hurt me."

I shivered as I felt Eric's lips press on my temple. "I won't do so again."

"How do you know?" I asked him. "How can you be so sure?"

Eric pulled his head away and our eyes locked; his hand went back to gently stroking my cheek. "Sookie, you have noted that I have little qualms with doing what I want, with taking what I want." At his pause, I nodded, signalling for him to continue. "What I want now is _you_. I want _you_ alive and safe. I am willing to fight to keep you safe. Why should I do so if it's my intention only to hurt you myself?" Pausing again, this time he grinned. "The only screams I ever want to hear from your throat are those you make when you're writhing in pleasure."

My face reddened at Eric's graphic commentary; I so did not know what to say to that. Fortunately, I didn't have to say anything. Eric chose that moment to once more bring his lips down to mine.

Mouths open this time, our tongues played a little mating dance of their own. Mine explored his with interest. Discovering his fangs had popped down, I ran my tongue over each one. I felt Eric shudder under my touch and he pulled me tighter into his arms. Feeling such contentment and bliss, I whimpered when the kiss came to an end.

~oooOOOooo~

"How did you feel about Eric, then?"

Silently, I look at Amelia. This is the reason I'm here. This conflict.

"I wanted him and I hated myself for being weak for wanting him."

"Because he hurt you?"

"Because he hurt me."

Amelia seems at a loss. Her next words belie my observation as she changes the direction of the conversation.

"What about Claudine? Did she come back?"

"Yep."

"How'd that go?"

I nod and tell Amelia about my cousin's return.

~oooOOOooo~

"Hey, Sookie!" My head shot up at the sound of my cousin's chipper voice. "How're things shakin'?"

"Claudine!" Although I didn't know her very well and I definitely didn't know what to make of her, I was _thrilled_ to see Claudine's warm, radiant smile. Instinctively, I returned the smile. Turning to Sam, I said, "Hey, Sam. I'm going to go out front for a few minutes and catch up with Claudine."

Sam sent a curious glance at my cousin before nodding, a sullen expression on his face. (Inquisitive! Narc! Labrador!)

A few minutes later Claudine and I were outside on the corner of Third Avenue and Bay Ridge Parkway. To my surprise, Claudine folded me into a tight hug.

"It's good to see you well, cos," she said.

"Thanks, Claudine. You look good, too." Her emphatic greeting actually took me aback: did she _not_ expect to find me well? Her next words answered my question.

"Of course, I knew you were okay—we have our ways. Just the same, I am happy to see you looking well _and_ happy."

Okay. "So you're able to keep tabs on me even from Paris?" Tired, I leaned with my back against the street lamp. Glancing up, I noticed clouds rolling by.

The smile never left her face as she nodded. "Yes. I could even pop back if I saw you in trouble, but of course distance makes things harder. I would've asked my brother—your cousin Claude—or my sister Claudette to watch over you but you're my responsibility and they have their hands full at the moment. Besides, they live in Louisiana."

I thought Claudine sounded uncharacteristically sad as she said this last part.

"Oh? I guess you must miss them, huh?" This was so not the direction I saw this conversation taking.

"Every day," she nodded. "We're triplets and we're very, very close. Due to all the activity in the area, our grandfather's business holdings are centered in New Orleans. My brother and sister are both involved in his business. I am too but I have a creative streak." Claudine stopped speaking to look at me; her gaze traveled from my face down to my injured arm. Following her gaze, I found myself staring at my sling-sporting arm. Bringing my eyes back up to my cousin, I watched as she frowned. "Big, Blonde and Dead didn't offer to heal your arm?"

I heard the confusion in my voice as I replied. "No. Why? Was he supposed to?" Were Claudine and Eric somehow working together?

Claudine shook her head. "No, I just figured he would. You'd be better able to defend yourself if your arm were fully healed." She brought her eyes back up to meet mine; for once her gaze held a sober look. "He seems to really be taken with you."

My eyes widened in horror: Could Claudine "see" me when I was with Eric? Chewing on this thought, I bit down on my lip.

"I know you haven't encountered Lochlan again." Mutely, I nodded. "Has your vampire told you more about him?"

"Some…" My answer came out little more than a croak; I cleared my throat and tried again. "Eric said he…_they_ were cruel and enjoyed torture."

Claudine smiled. "I wouldn't have pegged the Viking for having a penchant for understatement."

Swallowing, I processed her words. "What's going to happen to me, Claudine?"

"Sookie, don't worry! Grandfather's actually negotiating with Breandan. We're hoping to avoid any unnecessary unpleasantness or bloodshed." She smiled as she said this. I knew she intended it to be reassuring but it wasn't. In fact, her words, so cavalierly uttered, struck a bizarre chord inside me.

Unpleasantness. Bloodshed. Smile.

Certainly nothing could be more unpleasant than bloodshed, right? I stifled a giggle. Unless you were a vampire, of course. In which case bloodshed would be like me coming upon a fountain flowing streams of Hershey's dark chocolate syrup.

Feeling a chill, I ran my good hand up and down the bare skin of my t-shirt clad arm.

"But you should continue to take precautions."

"Precautions?" I asked.

"Your Vampire."

That was the second time she'd referred to Eric as "my" vampire.

"Claudine, why do you keep calling Eric that?"

Blithely she shrugged at me. "What else should I call him, darlin'? He's yours, not mine."

We fell into an uncomfortable silence. Hearing a voice call out for someone named Tommy my eyes cut across the street. I watched as a couple of drunk college-aged kids jostled each other, laughing.

Staring blankly at the kids, I remembered all the questions I had for Claudine. Weighing them, I decided to start with the easiest one.

"How old are you, Claudine?"

"Oh, I guess Big, Blonde, and Dead was a Chatty Cathy after all." Facing away from Claudine, I smiled. My fairy cousin wasn't happy revealing her age. I almost laughed at the _humanness_ of her reaction. Looking back at my cousin I replied,

"Eric didn't say anything about you. He did mention that he's known my great-grandfather for hundreds of years."

Claudine nodded. "Yes, I guess he has known Niall that long." Her brown eyes, luminous, latched onto mine. "As for me, well, I'm as old as I feel, which is probably your age. But we don't age the same way. Time passes differently for us."

I didn't know how to respond to that so I just nodded.

"Anyway," Claudine continued. "I have important news for you."

"Oh?" Recalling all the "important news" that had come my way in the past few weeks, I couldn't _imagine_ what else there could be.

"Niall is making a trip out to New York shortly and he wants to meet you."

I felt my mouth go dry. This man—_fairy_—who was reputedly hundreds of years old and my great-grandfather wanted to meet me.

_Why? _

_Why now? _

"Why? Why does he want to meet me?" Was it because of the trouble I seemed to be causing?

"Sookie, Niall is very family-oriented," Claudine smiled. "You are the grand-daughter of his deceased son, Fintan. You are also a very special individual in your own right. Why shouldn't he want to know you?"

I didn't really have an answer to her question, but I still felt uneasy.

"Will you tell me more about fairies, Claudine?"

"Oh? What do you want to know?"

Flummoxed, I just shook my head, shrugging. "I don't know. Everything?"

Claudine laughed. "That's a steep order for tonight, Sookie. I still have to unpack." She smiled. "Besides, someone else is here to see you." She jerked her chin to my left. Twisting my neck, I saw Eric standing in the shadows a few yards away. "I need to get going."

My eyes focused on Eric, I heard a "pop" to my right. When I turned back to look at Claudine, the spot where she once stood was empty.

"Sookie."

At the sound of Eric's voice, I felt my heart leap. Why did he make me feel that way?

"Eric."

I looked at him. He had closed the distance between us; he stood a few feet from me.

"Your fairy godmother, I take it?"

"Yep."

"She's beautiful."

"Yep."

"You are, too."

Swallowing, I whispered, "Thank you."

"Are you ready to go?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I just need to let Sam know."

"I'll wait out here."

I started to walk past Eric to the bar entrance. On impulse I grabbed his hand as I passed. Eric took advantage of my freely given hand and our proximity to pull me into him. I felt his breath on my neck as he spoke.

"I missed you."

Shivering, I nodded. I felt a rise of Goosebumps on my flesh and a rush of heat travel to my core.

Turning to face him, I said, "I'll be right back." Our eyes locked and simultaneously we leaned in for a quick kiss.

"I'll be here," he said as I pulled away and walked back inside the bar.

~oooOOOooo~

"You love him?" asks Amelia.

"I do," I reply softly. "I do."

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks for the reviews and alerts! I swear there's a plot beyond all this character development. Scout's honor. We're getting there. Soon. <strong>

**Chapter title is from Pearl Jam's "Low Light."**


	13. I Swallowed My Breath And

**Characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I just moved them to Brooklyn and make them take the subway. **

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><p>A week flew past. And then another. Despite Claudine's return, it was still Eric who walked me home each night.<p>

I did see Claudine regularly. Either we'd meet up for lunch or shopping on my days off or she'd stop by the Salty Dog on work nights. Initially impressed that she thought nothing of driving into Brooklyn from her apartment in Manhattan, it eventually dawned on me that the only time I'd ever actually seen her in a car was when she picked me up to go to dinner the second time we met (third time if you counted our encounter on the subway track). I couldn't help but laugh at the thought that Claudine had conquered New York City's commuter woes via inter-borough "popping."

In addition to avoiding long commutes, my cousin had also proven herself adept at avoiding my questions. While frustrated, I felt I had to give her the benefit of the doubt—since I honestly couldn't tell if she was doing it on purpose.

The fact that my life suddenly seemed to hinge on whether or not two fairies—who I'd never met and wouldn't know from a hole in the ground—could get along, struck me as the epitome of absurd. At my asking to see a picture of Niall, Claudine had replied simply "I'll see if I can find one." Finally, after sitting through a Star Trek movie marathon with Jason one rainy Saturday, I'd started to envision Niall and Breandan as an elderly and embattled Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock. I giggled at the vision of William Shatner and Leonard Nimoy as the chiefs of warring fairy clans, duking it out by throwing lemons at each other. I'd considered telling Claudine but somehow I didn't think she'd find it funny.

Eric, on the other hand, found the idea very funny. We laughed about it as we walked hand in hand along the promenade.

"Honestly, I'm surprised you even know who they are," I said.

"I watch movies," he chuckled. "I even owned a VHS player in the eighties." Done laughing, Eric was quick to sober up. "So tell me. Your cousin has told you nothing?"

Hearing Eric's chilly tone, I felt a pang of disloyalty; I didn't want him angry at Claudine.

"Well, she hasn't told me _much_," I replied. "She told me about the negotiations. She told me some stuff about how _your two groups_ get along." I gave him a meaningful look. "But we usually get sidetracked. I'd been meaning to ask _you_ anyway. What can you tell me about fairies?" Glancing at him, I caught something in his eye. "Aside from how they taste?" I quickly added. "That's actually one of the areas Claudine covered pretty well."

Hesitant to divulge information about fairies, Claudine was fine with talking about vampires. I was able to gather from her passing comments that vampires found fairy blood "intoxicating" and "addictive." As a result, fairies tended to steer clear of the undead.

At my qualifier, Eric turned to give me a sexy smirk before answering. "They're lovely, male and female both. Incredibly tough and ferocious. They're not immortal, but they live a very long time unless something happens to them. As you know they can be killed with iron. There are other ways to kill them, but it's hard work. They like to keep to themselves for the most part. They like moderate climates. I don't know what they eat or drink when they're by themselves. They sample the food of other cultures; I've even seen a fairy try blood."

I shrugged. "Given what you said about…" I hesitated on saying Lochlan and Neave's names aloud; I may have been delusional, but—between Eric and Claudine and the reputed progress in the _Camp David Fairy Accords_—I'd actually been feeling safe. It was possible I was becoming superstitious in my old age; I feared saying their names would somehow conjure them before me. "Given what you've said, I don't really find that surprising. They sound like cannibals."

"Touché," said Eric.

"What else?"

"What else…" All of a sudden Eric stopped walking and sat on the park bench. Staring out at the water, he seemed to consider my question. As I stood there, watching him, I stole a moment to take in his beauty.

The lights and shadows cast by the promenade's streetlamps' accentuated the ethereal nature of his perfectly chiseled features. He could easily be a New York runway model. In fact, it occurred to me that were he to model for Claudine, her name in fashion would probably be secured after only one show.

Turning away to stare out at the water myself, I was surprised when Eric suddenly pulled me down onto his lap. I fought back a shiver as he wrapped his arms around me; smiling at the Verrazano Bridge in the distance, I folded my arms over his. It was my first day without the sling. "What else she asks…" I gasped as he surprised me again by nipping the tender flesh under my ear.

"They have a higher opinion of themselves than they have any right to. On the other hand, when they give their word, they keep it." He thought for a moment. "It's in their essence to be magical, but they all have different magics." He paused before continuing. "They're like us in that they can't all do the same things."

_They're like us._ "What kind of magic?"

"Your cousin can teleport."

"Not all fairies can do that?"

Eric shrugged. "I don't know. They may. All of the fairies I've met can." He fell silent again. "They don't only live here, Sookie. They have their own…_world_. You can get there from here, but it's not of this world."

Struggling to understand his words, I replayed them in my head.

"How do you get there?"

"Portals." Thank goodness for my and Jason's childhood fascination with sci-fi. Finding out about this fairy stuff was tough; it helped that I knew some of the terminology.

"Where?"

"Safely guarded secret." He laid a kiss on my cheek. "I'd say that's a question your cousin could answer."

I nodded. "What else?"

"They have no gods but their own race, for they've often been mistaken for gods. In fact, some of them have taken on the attributes of a deity. That's their magic."

I gaped at him. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I don't mean they're holy," Eric said. "I mean that the fairies who inhabit the woods identify with the woods so strongly that to hurt one is to hurt the other. So they've suffered a great drop in numbers. Obviously, we vampires are not going to be up on fairy politics and survival issues, since we are so dangerous to them . . . simply because we find them intoxicating." Eric's arms tightened around me.

"Yeah, so I've heard." At the sound of fast approaching footsteps, we both fell silent. After the jogger passed, I twisted on Eric's lap so I could see his face. "How many of them are there?"

"There were thousands of fairies in the United States once," Eric said. "Now there are only hundreds."

I was curious as to how many vampires there were but I swallowed the question.

_Another time_ I told myself.

"Do vampires and fairies get along?"

I noted Eric's hesitation before responding. "We're not at war," he said finally. "We haven't been for centuries."

"War? So you guys actually fought each other? Like pitched battles?"

"Yes," Eric said. "And if it ever came to that again, the first one I'd take out is Niall."

"Why?" I asked sharply. Even though I hadn't yet met Niall, the fact that he was my great-grandfather—and that he wanted to know me—made him important to me.

"He's very powerful in the fairy world. He is very magical. While there aren't many Fae left, the ones that remain are determined survivors. And not all of those are friends of the prince's." At my confused look, Eric clarified his last comment. "Your great-grandfather."

Right. Claudine had said Niall was a prince but I'd tucked it away and forgotten that detail.

"But you know him. Are you friends?"

"Acquaintances. Sometime allies."

"So why would you take him out?"

"He is a polarizing figure. It would be a strategic move. The other Fairy leaders are weaker. Taking him out first would weaken the rest."

"Speaking of strategic moves, you think telling me you want to off my relative is the best strategy to take with me?" Eric's ability to not mince his words forced me to acknowledge several things I'd so far avoided thinking about head on.

"I told you I'd be honest with you."

"Yeah..."

"That's honest."

I jumped up. "It's getting late. For me. I need to get home."

We walked in silence to my building. Once there, a pall of uneasiness seemed to settle on us both. I made no move to walk inside and Eric made no move to leave.

"Hey," I said. "Let's sit a minute and talk."

A quizzical look on his face, Eric took in the unadorned concrete patio. One of the benches had been stolen the previous summer so the superintendant had brought the remaining two inside.

"Where?" he asked.

"Eric, for someone who's been around a long time, you're not very open to improvisation. Here. On this raised step." I gestured to the raised patio.

Grinning, all of a sudden Eric plopped himself down on the cement, his long legs stretched out in front of him. "Like this?"

"Yeah, just like that." I started to settle myself down next to him when he pulled me onto his lap for the second time that night.

"Is this okay? You could still sit on the hard concrete but I thought this more comfortable for you." I could feel his lips on my neck. I could also feel a part of Eric that seemed every bit as hard as the patio. Between his lips and _that_, a rise of fire had started to course throughout my body.

Ignoring the sensations Eric was causing in my body, I willed my voice to sound normal as I responded.

"This is fine." Despite my best efforts, my body betrayed me; my words were stilted as my breathing became irregular. I felt Eric tilt his head. Suddenly his lips were blazing a path of warmth up my neck.

"So what are we talking about, my Sookie?"

I could hardly concentrate with his lips on me.

"I don't think you really want to talk."

'"What makes you say that?"

_What makes me say that?_ "How about that you're making it impossible for me," I pulled back and twisted around so I could look at him, "to say anything..." my words trailed off.

"_Anything_?"

I smiled. "Anything aside from maybe 'more-more-more'."

He tightened his hold around my waist. "That's my girl. That's what I like to hear."

My brain picked up on his words. I may never get a better opportunity to broach my topic. "Am I?"

"Are you what?"

"Am I your girl? Do you,"—I didn't want to be too explicit, given someone might come out of the building behind us—"_date_? Or are you just hoping I'll agree to _dinner_ one of these nights?" Emboldened from a courage I didn't know I had, I continued. "Am I supposed to pretend I don't know what you do? How you," my words died on my lips. "Am I supposed to pretend I don't know how you _eat_? "

Glancing up I noted one of my neighbors walking their dog across the street. In that instant I was struck by how absurdly complicated my life was. They're walking their dog while I'm having the "relationship" talk with a thousand year old vampire.

I twisted on his lap to look at Eric. His expression pensive, his sapphire eyes glittered. Not wanting to stare at him, I turned my attention to the moths flying around the building's exterior sconces.

"Sookie…" I started at the sound of his voice.

"Yeah?"

"I think we ought to continue this conversation indoors."

"Oh?" I nodded. "Yeah, I think I understand. Come on." I jumped to my feet and held both hands out to him.

He raised an eyebrow at me questioningly.

"I figured I'd help you up since you're so old. Can't have you falling and breaking a hip." I managed to say all this with a straight face.

Eric snorted. "Yes, old as dirt."

"Yep, you said it, buddy."

"_Buddy_?" He made a face as he accepted my proffered hands and stood. "You're to call me Eric and Eric only." He reconsidered. "And anything else that escapes your lips," his finger caressed my lips, "in the heat of passion."

His touch on my lips sent a new current of desire rushing through me. Unable to speak, I replied with a murmur. "Mmmhmm."

I pulled my key out of my handbag and within minutes we were exiting the elevator on my floor. As I led Eric to my apartment, I continued to forge an internal debate on the wisdom of my actions.

My problem was that somewhere along the way—despite the danger I kept reminding myself he presented—I _enjoyed_ being with Eric.

It didn't matter what he was.

It didn't matter what he'd done.

It didn't matter how afraid of him I kept telling myself I ought to be.

None of that mattered; when he held me in his arms, I felt safe, desired, and understood.

Weighing what it meant to feel those things—totally and completely in my heart—against what my brain kept telling me I ought to be feeling—this nameless fear—it was no contest, really. I'd lived my entire life with a wall separating me from the outside world. I'd been forced to clamp down on being myself for so long. The silence of his brain had gone a long way in securing his place in my life; it was so empowering to be with someone I could be myself around and not have to concentrate on keeping my shields up.

In a moment of insight, it occurred to me that I might hold the same attraction for Eric.

After unlocking and pushing open the door, I walked inside. Sensing that he hadn't followed me, I looked back at Eric who remained in the hallway just on the other side of the doorway.

"You waiting for me to carry you over the threshold?"

Eric chuckled but his eyes were serious as they locked onto mine. "Actually, I need an invitation."

"Oh…" I felt my eyes go wide. _Right_. _In for a penny, in for a pound_ as Gran would say. "What if I want you to leave?"

"You rescind the invitation. That goes for any one of _us_."

I nodded my head. Just like in the movies. "Eric, please come in."

In a flash he stood before me. Looking up at his eyes, I thought his face looked as serious as I'd ever seen it. Mirroring the desperate need I saw in _his_ eyes, it felt like _my_ heart was trying to pound its way out of my chest.

"I did not like the feeling of not being able to touch you." He engulfed me in his arms, holding me tight.

Reflexively, I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him back.

It felt so right holding him and being held by him.

How could it be wrong?

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks for the reviews and alerts! We're closing in on the plot. Promise. <strong>

**Transparent Ploy for Reviews: If you're ever going to get "lemons" from me (beyond, of course, the disgusting slash of Derek Southman, ch 6), it's going to be the next chapter which I'm currently writing! Feel free to weigh in. :) **

**Chapter title is from Pearl Jam's "In Hiding."**


	14. What You Are

****Characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I just moved them to Brooklyn. I'm a stickler for canon. It is my intention to keep both the characters and the mythology as close to canon as possible. A few chapters back I wanted Eric to tell Sookie about fairies. So I needed (1) to incorporate the "truths" about fairy mythology and (2) write it in a way authentic to Eric's voice. Most surefire way to do this and not mess with either one was to intersperse authentic dialogue from Book 8 when Eric tells Sookie about fairies. So that's exactly what I did. Note: I borrow from CH and TB whatever I think it will contribute to a better story. This is how I write all my fics. My apologies to anyone thrown by my use of canon dialogue. ****

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><p>As we stood there, I realized I hadn't responded to his comment. I figured the fact that I was hanging onto him like my life depended on it was probably response enough. Finally we each started to pull away.<p>

"Let's sit," I suggested.

Eric settled on my loveseat, while I sat across from him on my grandmother's recliner.

Falling into a silence, I watched him as he casually glanced around the apartment. Sitting with his upper body pitched forward, his elbows perched on his knees and his hands clasped, he emitted a kinetic potency that was almost tangible.

I felt my mouth go dry.

Overwhelmed, I stood. Out of habit, I fell back on my grandmother's good hostessing tenets. Determined to do it right, I rifled through my memory of every vampire movie I'd ever seen.

"Um, Eric?" I swallowed nervously as he brought his eyes up to meet mine. "I'm going to get myself a glass of water. Can I get you anything?"

Eric gave me a look that combined amusement and sadness. I felt my face flush in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry. In some movies, you…guys drink and stuff."

He nodded in understanding at my gaffe. "Yes, of course. No, in reality our diet is quite a limited one."

"Right," I nodded. Silently, I retreated to the kitchen. There was a lot I didn't know about Eric. I tried to rationalize my questions away. Like, if I were seeing someone who was a vegan or a vegetarian, they would have special dietary needs, too. And if I happened to date an albino one day—they'd have serious sunlight limitations. But it wasn't working; no matter how you played this, it was tremendous.

I returned with my water and reclaimed my seat. Staring blindly at the wall, I let out a frustrated sigh. Eric sensed my internal battle.

_"Ready to bail?"_

Giving in to my amusement at Eric's use of yet another colloquialism he had no business knowing, I chuckled.

"No..." I said quickly, too quickly. "_Oh! I don't know."_ I brought my eyes to meet his. His face was inscrutable. I didn't know if he'd gotten into a habit of letting down his guard with me or what, but I realized that it had been a while since I'd looked at him and felt I had no clue as to what he was thinking. "There's just a lot I don't know."

"What would you like to know?"

What would I like to know? So simple and so complicated at the same time. Under normal circumstances, I figured I'd ask a prospective suitor questions like 'where do you live,' 'what do you do for a living,' and 'how do you spend your time when you're not with me'? With Eric…

"How do you eat?"

I watched as his eyebrow shot up; amusement, not surprise.

"You want the truth, I assume?"

"Yes." I found myself dreading his answer; maybe part of me was hoping for a lie.

I fought the urge to squirm as Eric fixed his steely gaze on me. I could tell he was measuring his words. He said he wouldn't lie to me. But he'd also told me, he'd limit his words if he thought the truth was more than I could bear.

"I pick up women—sometimes men—under the guise of sex." He shrugged. "Once in a while, prostitutes. After I've fed on them, I glamour them so they remember only what I wish them to remember."

That was pretty damn honest.

"Does the glamour always work?"

Eric hesitated. Uh oh.

"Yes. Enough." He glanced down briefly before bringing his eyes back up to meet mine. "These humans…are usually not the sort who trust their memories, regardless."

"Drug addicts?"

He nodded. "Drugs. Alcohol. Illness."

I took a moment to absorb what he was telling me.

"What about the marks on their neck?"

Eric grinned wolfishly. "It's not always on their necks."

I felt my face redden as my thoughts meandered to where else he would bite.

"Our saliva, like our blood, has healing properties. Applied to a small skin puncture, it will heal it immediately."

"Oh..." Mulling over Eric's explanation, I couldn't help but recognize how much it sounded like a crime—a mugging—something that's hidden and covered up. I wondered if it was ever _not_ like that? "Do you ever tell anyone? You know? What you really are? Does anyone ever agree to let you feed? Willingly? Knowing?"

Eric sat, unblinking, watching me as he considered his response. It was only a lifetime of practice that kept me from betraying my thoughts. But, of course, my ability to maintain a poker face didn't matter; Eric knew how I felt.

"Once in a while, I have found myself with someone I see repeatedly."

"Like a girlfriend?"

He hesitated; it was so still, I imagined I could hear my own heart echoing in the silence. Finally he spoke.

"_Somewhat_. In that the connection is ongoing. We use a different term to describe it."

"What?"

"You will be offended."

I stared at him, my eyes wide. "Lay it on me."

Eric grinned, mildly amused by my expression. "Pet. We call such humans pets."

I swallowed that up and decided to just go with it. "So a pet is someone who's willing?

"Yes."

"And you don't glamour them?"

"Not, while I'm with them. In the end, when our connection is ending, I do. _Usually_."

"So when things are ending, you steal that person's memory of you away?"

"Maybe. Or maybe I alter it. Remove all memories of my true nature. Plant false memories of my physical characteristics."

"That's awful."

"Awful?" Suddenly, Eric was peering at me, his eyes serious and probing. "Why do you say that?"

"Well, it's just…" My eyes darted to the fireplace where I had a stash of photographs of Jason and me with Gran. "I would think it might hurt."

"Hurt?" Eric threw me a look I could only describe as perplexed.

"I mean you spend time with someone and then they don't remember you."

Of course, it wasn't the same thing but I'd read an article about Alzheimer's patients a few months earlier. It wasn't just those diagnosed with the illness that suffered; their loved ones suffered tremendously as memories of a lifetime shared gradually disappeared.

Still staring at me, Eric nodded. "Yes, it can be mildly disconcerting at times. But there's no way around it." He said with a shrug. "I can't risk the exposure."

"But does it bother you? That they don't remember you?"

I thought maybe I'd struck a nerve as Eric fell silent; I watched him, waiting for him to say something. Finally, his eyes settled once more on mine.

"It does me little good to concern myself in matters beyond my control, Sookie. Do I wish away the mundane moments of my existence? The prosaic nature of the actions necessary to ensure my survival?" His eyes bored into mine. "You can fake many things. Intimacy is not one of them."

"Yeah," I agreed. Feeling an irrational sense that he was talking about me as well as himself—and he was aware of the fact— I felt a rush of warmth. "I know exactly what you mean."

"Yes." Eric looked at me. "I imagine you would."

Uncomfortable, I broke our staredown to look down at fingers playing with a loose thread on Gran's chair. It seemed that it was a night for some real questions.

"What about me, Eric? You can't glamour away my memory of you. Anything I see, anything I hear, anything I know—I'm going to hold onto those memories." I fell silent. Of course, I'll die one day and so will my secrets; I only hope that that day isn't unnaturally hastened by decisions made today. "What about that risk? It's different with me. Have you thought about that?"

"Yes, I consider your differences all the time."

"And?"

"And the good outweighs the bad."

The good outweighs the bad. I felt my throat dry up again. What did he regard as the bad? And how bad was it?

Sidetracked off my earlier feelings of lust, I was starting to be slammed by the different angles to this...this thing. I'd been looking at it pretty straightforwardly as a 'should I or shouldn't I?' Now I was wondering what would happen later? What if I were to become "involved" with Eric? What then? What if we broke up? (Maybe I'd 'run away' like any other 'pet'?) What would happen? Is there any such thing as an amicable break-up with a vampire? Suddenly I realized Eric's glamouring his former paramours was as much for their benefit as for his.

"You said that's how it is _usually_. What are the exceptions?"

"Ah…" Reluctant to answer, he turned to stare out my window instead.

After a minute or two, my impatience got the better of me. "Well?"

"You're smart..."

Under any other circumstances, I might've appreciated the flattery; under these circumstances, it terrified me.

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"You understand Darwinism?" Eric had turned his head back to face me.

"Yeah, of course."

"Well, vampires are..." He paused, searching for the right words. In the meantime, I resumed playing with my Gran's fraying seatcover, my overactive imagination randomly filing in the blank: Vampires are… Killers? Senile? Emotional? Bad at crosswords? "_Predators_. We are predators, Sookie. In a way few humans are. There's something called the thrill of the hunt and then there's something called the thrill of the kill."

I felt my stomach pitch forward; I didn't want to hear this.

"Stop!" I held up a hand. "I don't want to hear anymore, Eric. Please."

"Please allow me to finish."

Suddenly nauseous, I met his eyes; I could feel that mine were suddenly brimming with tears. Grimacing, I nodded.

"I am not saying I –or we, any of my kind—still ascribes to that way of doing things. But this—_for many years_—has been the norm. Now with humans' advent of surveillance cameras and forensics science, any sloppiness could result in our discovery and ultimate extinguishment."

I saw a branch and I was grabbing it. "So you don't do it that way anymore?"

"I didn't say this."

Sighing, I felt tears roll down my cheeks.

"I don't kill anymore; at least, not while feeding."

I caught his qualifier. "Do you kill at other times?"

His stark blue eyes burned into mine. I saw sorrow, pity and regret there. I hoped it was him feeling bad about bursting my bubble about his lifestyle and not him feeling bad that one day he'd have to kill me.

"I do what I must to survive, Sookie. Humans, vampires, other supernatural beings. I am very protective of my existence. Threats are eradicated."

Wordlessly, I nodded. A chill ran down my spine. _Threats are eradicated_. Something told me Eric had a very broad definition of threat.

"Who do you regard as a threat?"

"Those that I can't control. Those that could expose my secrets."

Great.

"What about me?"

"You don't seem particularly threatening, Sookie."

"No, maybe not right now. But do you see yourself ever being concerned I might betray you?"

"No." He replied quickly; I thought it was almost too quickly. Maybe I wasn't the only one he needed to convince?

"How can you be so sure?"

"I have very good instincts. Are you telling me I'm wrong to trust you?"

"No," I shook my head. It was true. I couldn't imagine myself plotting against Eric. "But I'm crazy to trust you."

"Yes, I'd agree with you there."

That made me snort in laughter. "Even you agree!"

"Oh, yes." Smiling, he nodded. "Just as I think myself crazy for entering a relationship with you."

_Relationship_. After all this, _he_ was the one who said the word. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I smiled as I felt the tears doing a freefall down my cheeks. "Yeah. We're both crazy, I guess."

"Decidedly so," he nodded again. "But there are forces at work that will make us less so."

"What do you mean?"

"Several companies are presently developing synthetic blood."

"Synthetic blood? You mean fake blood?" My brain tried to zero in on what he was telling me. "You mean food? So if you have food, you won't be a threat to people?"

"Yes," he replied. "It's more than that. We'd let ourselves be known."

"You mean if you guys are not regarded as a threat, you'll…_come out_?"

"Yes. Exactly."

Wow. That did change things. I wouldn't have to be afraid of him. Or tear myself up for _not_ being afraid of him. "How long you think it'll be?"

"Hard to say. It's been in the works for decades but there's been recent chatter that they're closer than they've ever been; some say it's only a matter of months."

Swallowing, my eyes shot to the carpet; all of a sudden, I felt Eric's hands on my face as he gently tilted my chin so that my eyes met his. He grinned. "Although it does not pleasure me to see you cry, I will enjoy your tears when they come." Leaning across the distance that separated us, I felt Eric's lips lightly kiss my cheeks, his tongue lap at my tears. "Your mucus, however, is another story."

I turned away from him and pulled a corner of my shirt up to wipe my face.

He laughed at that. He tugged me by the arm, prompting me to get up and settle on the loveseat beside him. He positioned his arm around my shoulders and I burrowed into his chest. We fell into a comfortable silence. It was Eric who broke it.

"I like this."

"This what?"

"Snuggling."

Startled, I felt my mouth drop open. I pulled back so I could look at him. "Really?"

"Yes. It's not something I do very often."

I thought about. "I guess with glamour if a woman's lying in your arms, she's—" I stopped, not sure how to say what I was thinking without it coming out rude.

"Not there willingly." Eric finished my thought.

The unspoken implication of that observation was that I, on the other hand, _was_ there willingly. I couldn't argue that. As strange and unpleasant as our _courtship's _initial stages had been, I was definitely a willing partner now. I'd even invited him into my apartment.

So when I felt his cool lips nuzzling my forehead, I tilted my head back giving him better access to my lips. Eric gave me a sideways grin before leaning in to accept my invitation. The kiss, feather light, prompted a tingling I felt reverberate down to my core.

"Shall I tuck you in, Sookie?" He rubbed his cheek against my forehead before pulling back.

"Only if I get to tuck you in," I replied in a husky voice little resembling my own.

Eric's eyes widened at my candor. While our chemistry was palpable, we seemed to have an unspoken agreement that our kisses and touches would only go so far. On the other hand, maybe there was no unspoken agreement. Maybe our restraint was born of the fact that we only ever saw one another at the bar where I worked, at the park by the water, or on the streets of Bay Ridge. Even if I were not a virgin, and were sexually experienced, I couldn't see myself having sex in public.

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" Eric asked me, his face lit up by an unguarded smile that reflected a childlike excitement.

"_Yes_…" I returned the smile. Was I really going to go through with this?

"Sookie…" Before I knew what was happening, Eric gathered me in his arms. He positioned me so I was on his lap facing him, my legs on either side of his. I put my arms around him and pulled him close. He dipped his head down to capture my lips. "You're sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure." And I was. My arms locked around his neck, my lips were unwilling to give up their claim on his.

Eric stood with me wrapped around him like a barnacle. Looking at him with half-open eyes, I watched as he cast his eyes around the living room trying to figure out which door led to my bedroom.

"That one." I directed him with a jerk of my head.

"Thank you," he said. Grinning, he returned to our kiss, prodding my mouth open. As our tongues fell into a rhythm, I shivered in excitement thinking about what would come next.

Discovering Eric's fangs had extended, I rolled over each one gently with my tongue, eliciting a sharp hiss from him. My breathing started to speed up. Twenty-six years is a long time to remain a virgin.

Once in my room, Eric broke our kiss long enough to lower me onto the bed. Standing over me, he watched me as I lay there waiting for him. Impatient, I reached up and tugged at him.

"Impatient, lover?"

"You have no idea," I said. I was being honest. He really didn't.

As neither of us had bothered to hit the switch, the only light in the room was the moonlight filtering in through the drawn curtains.

"Would you like to undress me?"

Fighting my natural tendency to be shy about such things, I decided to just pretend it was Christmas morning. Christmas in August.

"Yes," I continued in that throaty voice that didn't sound like me.

"Good. I'll return the favor, then."

"I'd like that," I smiled as I got on my knees and made my way across the bed. Glancing up at Eric, our eyes locked as I made quick work of his belt, and unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans.

Shocked by my own temerity, I paused; I wondered if Eric would take over but he didn't. Before I totally lost my nerve, I yanked off his t-shirt. His chest, white and perfectly chiseled was suddenly before a beautiful sculpture carved from marble. I found myself staring, mesmerized by his nipples, the size of pencil erasers, inches before me.

My breathing was becoming more labored as I continued to stare at this Adonis before me. Uncertain as to what I ought to do next, I hesitated, laying my palms on either side of Eric's waist.

Eric brought his hands up to my shoulders, initially caressing them gently, but soon pressing and kneading them. Feeling wondrously renewed by the sensations wrought by Eric's talented hands, I closed my eyes and moaned.

"Like that, do you?"

Afraid to look at him, I kept my eyes closed. "It feels _so good_."

After a few moments, Eric's ministrations on my shoulders ceased. Opening my eyes, I saw that he was staring at me. Looking into his shining eyes, I was taken aback by the desire I saw there.

"My turn." With that, Eric brought his hands down to hem of my polo shirt and moved to lift it upward. Nervous and embarrassed, I hesitated for a brief moment before lifting my arms. Feeling naked without my shirt, I lowered my arms, crossing them in front of my lacey red bra.

Eric treated me to his crooked grin. "Don't hide. You're beautiful."

I knew I had to say something but words were failing me. I forced them out. "I'm not very experienced," I said anxiously. "I don't want to disappoint you."

"Not possible." Not wasting a second, Eric had my bra unhooked before I'd even realized where his hand had gone.

Startled, I laughed. "I guess I forgot about the vampire speed."

Eric laughed then and I felt comfortable again. "It comes in handy," he said with a smirk. "I promise you _you won't forget about it after tonight_."

With those ominous words hanging in the air—a delicious promise—I lay down and held my arms up. Eric took that for the invitation it was and joined me on the bed. He approached me slowly, exquisitely from the bottom of the bed.

"Look at me, Sookie." At Eric's direction, I shot my eyes downward to watch his slow progression up my body. As I watched, he took serious care, laying feather light kisses first along my stomach, then along my ribs, and finally along my breasts. All the while, he would glance up periodically to make eye contact with me.

I gazed on as he paid sweet, tortuous attention to my breasts. I sucked in my breath when I felt the tiny sting of his fangs and the sharp pleasure of his mouth.

"God…" I trailed the palm of my hand down his broad back. I could feel the muscles and tendons and the bones of his spine as they moved. As my hands moved down, lower, I hit the back waistband of his jeans.

"How are we both still wearing jeans?"

We quickly remedied that oversight.

With nothing left between us, Eric pressed his long cool body full-length against my warm one. Bringing his lips back up to mine, we kissed, slowly and deliberately.

I was really going through with this.

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><p><strong>Thanks: To slcurwin for doing beta duties and FiniteAnarchy for providing help on characterization. Chapter title from an Audioslave song.<strong>

**Where are the lemons you ask? Yes, I wrote them. (slcurwin can attest to this). But I didn't include them in the final chapter. Why? I am still not convinced they're necessary and I won't include gratuitous sex. So I'm at a stalemate.**

**Updates: Slow and steady wins the race. My day job is very intense these days. Since August, I've been working 12 hour days, six days a week. Since June I've been living in a hotel. This past week I was asked if I wanted time off at Thanksgiving or Christmas and was informed I might be assigned to another location 2 hours away. My muse is just tired. (She seems to be looking for LOLs as she started writing a new Kill Bill and she's also been writing a really evil non-interwebs story starring several of our coworkers.) Anyway, I felt obliged to keep you in the loop. I know the pain and frustration when you're reading a fic only to have the author abandon it. I can assure you I have total OCD about leaving things unfinished and I also have a complete vision for this fic and much of it has already been drafted. What I don't have at the moment is time. :(**


	15. I wish I was

**Disclaimers: ****Characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I just moved them to Brooklyn and gave them a little NYC attitude. ******

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><p>"You should have told me," he said, his voice firm but gentle. He held himself still with an almost palpable effort. "Another of your secrets?"<p>

I could feel my face flush with embarrassment and wondered if he could tell. "Yeah," I replied. "You're not mad, are you?"

"No, Sookie." He held himself above me, his eyes locked on mine. "But I just finished telling you I am not going to hurt you. I need to amend that: This. Will. Hurt."

"But no more than it would if you were just a regular guy, right?"

"Well," he shrugged, a playful look in his eyes. "An extraordinarily well-endowed regular guy with incredible skill. Honestly, I'm not sure if any of my caliber exist."

Amused, I giggled. "Okay, so hypothetically then. And if it's that extraordinary, I'd better take advantage of it, right?" I said.

"I continue to be awed by the extent of your intelligence," he said, leaning down to kiss me.

~oooOOOooo~

A while later, I was the first one to say something. "So, was that okay? Was I okay?" I knew it was okay—more than okay—from my perspective, but I needed reassurance that he enjoyed it as well.

"You were more than okay, Sookie." Eric pulled me close so he could kiss my temple. "Is that it for the secrets?"

I laughed. "Yeah, that's it."

"Do you hurt? Do you want me to heal it? You don't have to drink. I could just rub a little blood on you."

I thought about that. It was a delicious kind of pain but an inconvenient one. I had work the next day. Besides, lying next to him on the bed, I could tell Eric was more than a little interested in round two.

"Do you want me again?"

"I think I'll always want you again," he answered, bringing his lips down on mine. Suddenly Eric lifted me and swung me around, plopping me down on top of him. "Do you want me again?"

"Like this? With me on top?" Feeling at a loss, I just stared at him, wide-eyed.

Wordlessly Eric answered me with a quick lift of his eyebrow. Amused, I lost a little bit of my nervousness. I pondered his suggestion.

"I don't know how to start," I finally said, my voice low.

"Now, that," he said, laughter in his voice, "I find hard to believe."

"No, really."

"You want me to give you suggestions?"

That sounded fun. "Yeah," I said, smiling now too.

"Start here." He pointed to his left nipple.

Leaning forward, I set my lips and tongue to action, licking, kissing, and suckling across his broad chest. Settling on his left nipple, I closed my lips around his nipple and sucked. At the sound of him hissing, I figured I was doing it right.

"Bite…" he whispered.

I looked at him, an unspoken question in my eyes.

"You'll feel better…and I know I will," he smiled. "Just a little."

I bit down gently at first and then harder. I kept biting until I felt the flesh tear under my teeth and a light squirt of metallic tasting liquid seeped into my mouth. As I sucked, I felt a tranquil warmth radiate throughout my body. The pain from earlier was gone.

Pulling back after a few seconds, I glanced at Eric and was surprised to see his eyes closed in ecstasy; I felt him stiffen underneath me. I gasped as I felt his unseen fingers suddenly teasing me.

I watched as his eyes shot open. "Do you feel better now?"

"Yes," I replied breathlessly. "We could stay like this. I could be on top."

Eric smiled. "As you wish."

We leaned into each other for another kiss and round two.

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><p><strong>AN: Does this merit an M? After rereading what I wrote for Ch 14, I realized there were elements of the lemon scene I felt bad about leaving on the editing floor so I ELIMINATED THE LEMONS and posted the rest. LMAO. Sorry. I tried. LOL. Really. Thanks again to slcurwin for beta'ing. Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing and sticking with me. I have a 3 day weekend and we're going to a 10 hour workday so the future of updates is looking bright. :)<strong>


	16. All Night Long I Dream of the Day

****Characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I gave 'em my hometown and a little of my attitude. ****

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><p>"You love him?" asks Amelia.<p>

"I do," I reply softly. "I do." I say the words stronger as I repeat them.

"And you're lovers?" I can hear the concern in her voice.

"Yep." I reply somewhat sadly. I stare blankly before me as my mind wanders. Amelia is quick to notice the change.

"How is that going? Are you happy? Does he treat you well?"

I consider her questions. A lot has happened but it wasn't all Eric's fault. Some things just couldn't be helped.

"Things were wonderful at first."

"Okay." I catch her head nod out of the corner of my eye. "What changed?"

I grin sardonically as I twist my head to face Amelia.

"It's what didn't change, Amelia," I say. "At the end of the day — night — he's still a vampire."

~oooOOOooo~

Amazingly—despite my reservations, despite my fears—days passed and everything seemed absurdly normal. August ended and September began. Eric and I had been together for nearly a month. I'd have to describe my mood as mostly happy, if periodically incredulous. Over the shock of learning about the supernatural edges of our world, I was able to focus on what made me happy. And what made me happy was Eric; still delighted by the silence of his mind, I forgot my fear of him.

Although it didn't happen the first time, I did let Eric bite me the next time we had sex. It's impossible to describe how amazing it felt, the potency of the sensations, the feeling of Eric's fangs piercing my skin and drawing blood from deep within. That quickly became a regular part of our lovemaking ritual but after that first time, he didn't ask me to bite him again. I wondered why but never brought it up.

My friends and co-workers accepted Eric's place in my life, although Sam's attitude was far from welcoming. Eric would come down to the bar the nights that I worked and hang out for a while before closing. (He said he liked watching me work; I think it was more to keep an eye on the bar patrons and make sure none of my great grandfather's enemies were lurking about). At the end of the night, he'd escort me home, often coming inside for a bit.

It was an hour before closing. A local band had played bringing in a college crowd. My brother and Hoyt were both there. Busy using their summer vacations to work on their house, they hadn't been coming in much lately. As my thoughts started to spiral ahead, I was seeing the possible hiccups that could happen at Eric and Jason's first introduction. Catching Sam's eye, I could see his mind was similarly occupied. I didn't need to dip in his brain to know he was hoping the encounter would not go well. He probably was rooting for Jason throwing a fit to get me to break up with Eric.

Given how many of the people I knew seemed to wear their opinions on their sleeves, sometimes I wondered that telepathy was wasted on me; it should've gone to someone surrounded by folks less fierce about expressing their opinions.

"Hey," I called out to them. "You guys want a final round?" Reconsidering how much I'd already served them, I asked another question. "You two weren't shopping for supplies first? You don't have your trucks?"

"Aw, no Sook," said Hoyt, smiling. "You're a good bartender for askin'. We took the train down."

"Yeah, Sis," my brother nodded at me. "Figured we deserved a celebratory night out. Finished the floors in Hoyt's apartment. Stripped. Sanded. Filled in the missing pieces."

"Looks like new, Sookie," injected Hoyt.

"Will you let me tell her?" Irritated, my brother ran his fingers through his hair. Hoyt and I shared a silent laugh at my brother's need to be the bearer of good news. "Looks like new, Sook. Only one room left in our two units that needs to be done. My dining room. Because the floors were different. Was that parquet style. Need a whole new thing."

"Jase, Hoyt," I smiled at them both. "That's terrific. I can't wait to see it."

My brother shook his head. "Not ready for you, Sook."

"Okay," I replied uncertainly. "Why's it not ready for me?"

"Don't want anyone to see the place until Thanksgiving."

"What? Why?" It dawned on me what he was saying.

"Wanna do Thanksgiving at my place, of course. "

"Oh!" My voice echoed my surprise. "Who's gonna cook, Jase?"

"Aw, Sook," my brother batted his baby blues at me. "I figured it could be a team effort. I provide the place; you supply the food."

Galled by my brother's temerity, I could only shake my head in wonder. Thanksgiving had always revolved around my Gran. Since she had passed away just before the holidays the previous year, we hadn't felt much like celebrating the holiday. Hoyt and his girlfriend and Tara and JB had both invited Jason and me to join their respective family dinners but we'd declined both offers in favor of keeping to ourselves. So we picked up take-out and laid low. We hadn't discussed this year's Thanksgiving so finding out that Jason had it all planned was news to me.

"Who're we gonna have over?"

"Me, you, Hoyt, Holly, Hoyt's mama. Holly's parents if they wanna come out from Staten Island. Sam, of course. This new guy of yours I still haven't met. Your new friend. The tall, hot one."

It was only through years of practice that I was able to keep the smile plastered to my face. Although it basically brought most of the people I cared about together under one roof, my brother's Thanksgiving guest list was probably the Worst Idea I'd Ever Heard. Making sure that Eric and Sam behaved civilly to one another was one thing; making sure Claudine was safe from Eric was another matter all together.

"Speak of the devil." I heard Sam mutter. Shooting my eyes over to him, I saw him jerk his head toward the door. Turning to look, I saw Eric walk in; he was early. I threw a nervous smile at him and gestured to my brother who was perched at the bar in front of me. Eric gave me a nearly imperceptible nod. I'm not sure what he took my non-verbal cue to mean but he knew something was up.

"Speak of the devil?" My brother, his dial set on slow, finally caught on to Sam's comment.

"Eric's here," I said.

"Your sister's beau," Sam said at the same time.

"Showtime," I mumbled under my breath.

Eric took a seat at the bar, settling on the other side of Hoyt. I leaned over the bar to give him a kiss. Quick and closed mouth, it still sent a cascade of waves reverberating throughout my body.

"So you're Sook's Snuffleupagus," said Jason as he stood. "'Bout time we met. I'm her brother, Jason Stackhouse." With that Jason held his hand out to Eric.

I watched as Eric stared at Jason's hand.

This was the moment I was worrying about earlier. I had a plan. It would be awkward and strange but it was the best I could come up with.

"Eric's got a skin condition, Jase! He's taking medicine for it but it's pretty contagious and he can't shake your hand." Done with my mentally rehearsed speech, I finished my performance with my Crazy Sookie smile.

"Oh?" Jason pulled his hand back and gave Eric an awkward wave before unconsciously wiping his hand on his jeans. "Sorry, man. Sorry, Sook. That can't be much good for you, either. Ew," my brother frowned. I cringed as I dipped into his brain for a glimpse.

"Jason! Stop being a rude ass!"

I heard Sam snicker as he, too, caught onto my brother's thought processes. Eric, amused, turned to give me a sideways glance.

"It's all right, Sookie," said Eric, grinning.

"Well, it's nice to meet you just the same. I'm not judgey," Jason nodded reassuringly at Eric. "How long you two known each other?"

"Since June," answered Eric.

"Didn't see you at the hospital, when she had her fall."

Jason, like Arlene, was fond of using euphemisms rather than say 'that time some lunatic pushed you onto the subway tracks'.

"I was there. I work rather odd hours."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"I have different businesses in different time zones. My schedule is always different as a result."

"Oh? What kind of businesses?"

My ears perked up at my brother's question. I could tell he was doing his best to sound casual but it was obvious how badly he wanted to know what Eric did for a living. (Ha ha). Due to a late summer storm, I'd discovered that Eric's ride of choice was a sleek and expensive red Corvette. I'd made the mistake of mentioning it in passing to my brother one day. I stifled a smile as I watched Sam glance over from where he was wiping down the bar.

Our troop's collective curiosity wasn't lost on Eric, who turned an amused gaze on all of us.

"Real estate mostly," he shrugged. "Some manufacturing. Importing/exporting."

"Aw, importing and exporting. So that's like shipping?" asked Jason.

"It can be. Things can be brought in by air, train, or truck as well."

"Ah," nodded Jason. "Never thought of that. So you buy stuff not made in America?"

"Jason," I interrupted, tired of my brother's inquisition. "Do you even know what the word 'importing' means?"

"Sook, that's what I'm trying to get out of your taller half over here."

"Eric, ignore him. He likes to hear himself talk."

"Yeah," mumbled Hoyt. "It's 'cause nobody else does."

I suppressed a snort as I watched my brother give his friend the evil eye. From comments Eric had made about the news and local events, I knew a little about his business activities. I also knew he had a lawyer he paid well to keep on top of things.

"Eric, what're you doing here this early, anyway?"

"I actually wanted to talk to you about something and it involves you taking off tomorrow night." Eric shot a glance past me to Sam. I, too, turned around to look at Sam.

"Sookie's not a slave; she's an employee." Sam glared at Eric. "She's free to take off anytime she needs to."

Jason threw a confused look first at Sam and then at Eric. Just what I needed: a tension so palpable between my boss and my boyfriend that even my clueless brother could detect it.

"Well, thanks Sam, for that clarification." I threw him a look to let him know I wasn't happy with his snide tone. "What have you got planned?"

At Eric's pointed look, I was reminded of our audience of four (Arlene was 'helping' Sam behind the bar.)

"Can you take a break? We could go outside and I'll explain."

Since we'd already done last call, there was little left to do but wait on people to leave. Less than an hour left until closing, many patrons had already begun to make their way out.

"Sure." My gaze shot from Eric to Sam. "Be right back."

A few minutes later, Eric and I stood outside on Third Avenue. Though it was late in the season, as well as late at night, it was still pretty hot. I wrapped my body around Eric's, basking in his coolness.

"Mmm."

"Yes?..."

"You're like my personal air conditioner."

He grinned. "I hope I'm more than that?..."

I gave him a special smile. "Maybe..."

He returned my smile. "Come. Let's walk."

"Okay. Not too far. Sam said I could take a few minutes. Frankly, I'm surprised he let me go. He's probably hoping you stopped by to break up with me."

Eric's eyebrow shot up in surprise.

"Oh, yeah," I nodded. "What? Did you think Sam Merlotte was just okay with this?"

"No," he frowned. "I should've expected him to be a stubborn dog."

I rolled my eyes. "Please be nice. He's my friend and it's not like I have a whole hell of a lot of them."

"Yes, my lover."

I felt a blush creep across my face; I looked around to see if anyone around us had heard him. I loved it when he called me that in private but cringed when he said it in public.

"Eric! Please! Not here!" I did my best to shush him but I think it only served to encourage him. He threw his head back and laughed. Then he held a cool hand to my cheek.

"Yes, Sookie." His tone was serious but I could see his eyes were laughing at me.

"I'm serious, Eric." I whispered up to him. "That may have been okay back in your day—"

His eyebrow shot up; I ignored it.

"...but nowadays no one talks like that." I peered at him, waiting for him to say something.

"Hmm," he nodded thoughtfully. " Are you trying to rein in my behavior using peer pressure?"

"Yes. Is it working?" Looking at his face, which had become an impenetrable mask, I wondered if I'd offended him somehow. But then I saw his lip curve slightly to the right. "Jerk!"

"Hmm. Is that what you're calling me now?" He leaned down to whisper into my neck. "Is that what you're going to scream later?"

I felt my face grow warmer. "Eric!"

"What happened to 'Jerk', my lover?"

Thankfully, we'd hit the corner. The sidewalk ahead of us was empty. I tugged on Eric's hand and pulled him around the corner. "C'mon! Let's just go a round the block!"

"Yes, Sookie." His voice said my name like a caress and I felt the warmth from my face flow downward along my body, before settling someplace low.

Finally, gathering my wits, I reminded myself why we were out there. "So?" I prodded him. "Why do you want me to take off tomorrow night?" We had never been on a proper date. I kept telling myself it didn't matter, but I couldn't keep the hope from fluttering inside me at the idea that Eric wanted to take me out on a date.

Eric took the lead on our walking expedition; I was following him so closely that when he suddenly stopped, I accidentally crashed into him.

"Sorry," I said.

"I am requesting your help on a business matter."

Oh. Business matter.

"Oh? What kind of business matter?"

He resumed walking. Taking my hand, he tucked it under his arm.

"It's to purchase real estate. In Bayonne."

"New Jersey?" I couldn't keep the distaste from my voice.

"Yes," he glanced at me, smirking. "You know you New Yorkers really must get over your bias of New Jersey."

I gaped. Then looking at Eric, I laughed. "Uh-huh. I'm not falling for that. I can tell you're teasing me."

Eric shrugged, chuckling. "Maybe. It doesn't change the fact that as much of New Jersey is populated by former New Yorkers, it really makes little sense to hate the state."

"Yes, but they're the ones who gave up. If they hadn't, maybe we wouldn't have been overrun by mid-westerners."

He laughed at me. Okay, maybe my thinking was flawed but my gran's theory always stuck with me.

"Never mind all that. What's the business deal?"

"I am looking to prepare a manufacturing site in anticipation of the blood substitute being perfected and a facility being needed in this area of the country."

Oh. I thought about it. I hat to admit it made sense. I figured a blood substitute would not keep well. You wouldn't be able to ship it great distances. The blood substitute. God. I hoped it would be ready soon.

"What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to use your gift."

"Yeah, I figured. How?"

"I am in negotiations to purchase property. I don't trust the sellers."

A cold feeling started to wash over me.

"What're you gonna do if you don't like what I hear?"

"I'm going to take care of it."

"How?"

"You needn't worry about that, Sookie."

My breathing started to speed up. "I don't want to be the cause of anyone getting hurt, Eric."

"What're you saying?"

What was I saying? I didn't want to do what he was asking me to do.

"I don't want to do this."

Eric fixed his eyes on mine. "We have an agreement, Sookie. Remember?"

"Yeah, but that was before..." I looked at him questioningly. "Before...us?"

"Sookie, our relationship has no bearing on our agreement. You agreed to assist me and I will hold you to that agreement."

"Even if I don't want to do it?"

"Yes." He chuckled. "What then would've been the purpose of the agreement, Sookie?"

Bringing my hand up to his lips, Eric kissed it, sending a shiver through me.

For the first time in a while, it wasn't the good kind.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Suddenly, plot! Thanks to all of you who were understanding of my need to pull the lemons. To everyone else, I'm sorry if you feel teased! Not my intention. I just write what I feel. For the record, the "show don't tell" rule of writing is a call to limit excessive narration, not a call to explicitly "show everything". Lol. Nice try, tho. I'm sorry I've been so lame on replying to reviews. I will reply for this chapter so if there's any questions, comments...<strong>


	17. the prize at the end of the rope

**Characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I just gave them my hometown and a little bit of my attitude. New Jersey belongs to itself. **

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><p>True to his word, Eric showed up a little before nine the following night. Used to seeing him dressed casually, I was slightly taken aback by his appearance.<p>

"How was he dressed?" asks Amelia.

Amelia's voice comes out a raspy whisper; I can tell her mouth is dry. Leaning forward, she looks like she is hanging on my every word. As I watch her eyes widen, I allow myself a peek into her thoughts. I burst out laughing.

"Really, Amelia? " I laugh again. "No self-respecting New Yorker –human or not—is going around the city wearing a cape!"

Embarrassed, Amelia laughs with me.

"Okay. So how was he dressed?"

Not knowing how to respond at first, I shrug. Thoughtfully, I close my eyes. Suddenly, it comes to me. "He looked like he walked out of the pages of GQ. That's how."

"Oh," nods Amelia.

~oooOOOooo~

As we stood facing one another from opposite sides of the doorway, I just stared at Eric. Smiling at first, I watched as his grin gradually disappeared. A perplexed expression on his face, he glanced down at his jacket.

"Sookie?" At the question in his voice, I turned my gaze to meet his. "Is there something wrong with what I'm wearing?"

Swallowing, I shook my head. "Nope," I cracked a grin. "If anything, it's a little too right."

My eyes wandered over Eric. He was wearing a pair of designer dress pants, black turtleneck and a blazer that had to have been custom-made.

"Ah," he nodded, comprehending. "Thank you." As his eyes took me in, his lips curved into a smile.

Feeling self-conscious, I averted my gaze from Eric, and instead focused on a section of the doorway molding where the paint had chipped off. Eric had told me not to worry about what I wore; he instructed me to dress no differently from any other workday. But, as it was a business thing, it didn't seem right to wear jeans. So I had worn a skirt and a fitted knit top with a pair of heels. I styled my hair, rather than putting it up in my usual ponytail.

At the sound of Eric clearing his throat, I glanced up.

"Mmm, Miss Stackhouse," he laid a quick kiss on my lips; I shivered as I felt it course its way through my body. "You look good enough to eat." Grinning again, he pulled away. He kept his eyes fixed on me to see my reaction.

Puzzled and hurt, I frowned at him. Until I caught on that he was teasing.

"Ha ha," I responded. "Very funny. You know you're lucky I have a good sense of humor. Another girl wouldn't think that funny."

Uh-oh. Wrong thing to say, apparently. I watched as Eric's eyes fixed pensively on my face.

"Sookie, another girl wouldn't—" He started and then abruptly stopped. His eyes felt like they were boring holes into me. All of a sudden, my mouth went dry. "I think you underestimate how truly special—how unique—you are."

Silently, I nodded. I suppose I could've just taken his words at face value and a part of me really wanted to just take them as a compliment. But I couldn't keep my brain from filling in the blanks to his unfinished sentence.

_Another girl wouldn't be here now. _

_Another girl wouldn't have made it past the moment I discovered glamour didn't work._

_Another girl wouldn't have lived_.

Not a far stretch to assume that's where he'd been going with that line of thought.

Together we made our way downstairs. I tried pulling him toward the stairwell but he resisted. Instead we took the elevator down the nine flights.

"Why would you eschew these wonderful, modern conveniences?" he asked.

"It's healthier to walk," I replied.

"It's healthier to be in secure locations when someone is trying to kill you."

Damn. Silently I nodded, acknowledging his point. Things had been quiet lately. It was oddly easy to forget there was a score of supernatural beings who wanted me dead.

In silence we walked up Shore Road to where Eric's bright red Corvette was parked. I laughed the first time I saw Eric's ride, but stopped when he got this pouty, defensive look on his face. Apparently he'd bought one the first model year and had developed a soft spot for them.

Within forty minutes we'd crossed the Verrazano, navigated our way through Staten Island, and were finally turning off Route 440 onto New Hook Road.

"Are we there yet?"

"Soon," nodded Eric. "It's on Commerce Street. Off New Hook Road."

"Oh," I nodded as though the street names meant something to me. Since I didn't drive, I didn't venture into New Jersey very much aside from a random club or dinner outing to Hoboken with JB and Tara. Glancing around I saw we were in a heavy industrial area with large warehouse-looking buildings and huge storage tanks.

A few minutes later we turned off the street and pulled into a parking lot adjacent to a dilapidated old warehouse. Eric shut the engine. We sat in an awkward silence.

"So I guess we're here," I observed.

"Yes," agreed Eric. He turned to focus on me.

"Well," I began, "what exactly am I listening for? You never explained."

"What are you listening for…" He repeated my words deliberately before pausing. Turning away from me, I memorized his profile as he looked off into the distance. "I can't say I know exactly but if any of them says anything that sounds off—"

"How many of them are going to be there?"

"I expect the two partners and their lawyer."

"Okay," I nodded, trying to envision in my mind what this meeting will look like.

"If anything they say doesn't agree with what they're thinking—this is what I need to know. As for recognizing it," he paused again, looking at me. "I don't suppose one of your many hidden talents includes understanding real estate terminology?"

Eric's lips were turned up at the corners as though he were kidding, but I could tell by his eyes just how serious he was.

I snorted. "No! If that's what I need to know, then we're in trouble!"

Of course, I knew as soon as the words were out of my mouth one of us would be a little bit more in "trouble" than the other.

"No, no," Eric shook his head. "I suppose we can get around your lack of knowledge by just checking in periodically. Pretend to be feeling unwell whenever you've got something you feel warrants my attention. I'll then escort you to the ladies room."

I shot him a look of disbelief. "That's your solution? I pretend I've got a case of the runs and take off for the ladies room?"

"The runs? Charming." He grimaced.

I glared at him. "I'm serious. I don't know anything about real estate. I'll be getting up to leave the room every other minute."

"You can take notes to aid you in remembering what you need to tell me." Eric leaned in to tuck a few strands of hair behind my ear. "Come on, lover." He moved closer so that he could whisper in my ear. "Sooner we're done with work, sooner we can play." He nibbled on my ear.

Closing my eyes, I heard a sound that I was surprised to realize had come from me.

Eric just didn't play fair.

Resigned yet determined, I climbed out of the car. As the concrete was a mess and I wasn't used to tottering around on heels, I kept my eyes downward to make sure I didn't trip.

"Sookie."

I glanced up at the sound of my name. I was surprised to see Eric with his hand held out to me.

"I will not let you fall."

Smiling wanly, I nodded. Hand in hand, Eric and I made our way to the decrepit old building.

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><p><strong>AN: Is anyone still reading? I'm sorry! I know this is short. It's actually half the chapter but I'm working on the rest. Soon, soon. Promise. <strong>

**Thank you so much for reading and nominating "Your Autumn Moon," "Return of the Stackhouse Six," and "Oh No! Vampire Bill!" for the Fangie Awards. Google "Fangie Awards" if you don't know what I'm talking about. If you're trying to read "Stackhouse Six," google "Miral" and "Stackhouse Six" for the page with the characters' costumes. I know none of the hyperlinks on my profile works. Thanks. :)**


	18. the prize at the end of the rope, 2

**Characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I just gave them my hometown and a little bit of my attitude. New Jersey belongs to itself.**

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><p>As we approached the building, I'd thought we were going to the developers' offices. However, once we reached the doorway, Eric pulled out an access card. I watched in surprise as he swiped it through the access box.<p>

Once inside the dingy vestibule area, I noticed an old style building directory with letter tiles used to spell out the company names. Next to the directory was plaque with only one name.

_Northman, LLC. _

"You rent an office here?" I asked.

"I own the building."

"Are those other companies your tenants?"

"There are no other companies." At my look of confusion, Eric decided to elaborate. "The directory is old. I saw no need to remove it."

_Oh…_

The building was only three stories. I stifled a giggle as I once more found myself trailing after Eric to the elevator. Exiting onto the third floor, we silently made our way to an office suite with a Northman, LLC plaque. I watched as Eric swiped his access card through an access box identical to the one downstairs.

Eric's office suite consisted of three rooms: an outer office where a secretary would sit; an interior office where I figured he would sit; and an adjoining conference room with a rectangular table and eight chairs.

Unlike the rest of the building, which could optimistically be described as "off-white," the walls in this office had been recently painted a crisp clean white. Cherry molding had been added to make the office space look old. All three rooms were fitted with large and obviously expensive cherry furniture. Wandering into Eric's office, I glanced out the window and saw that it fronted onto the water.

"It's the Arthur Kill."

I started at the sound of Eric's voice; confused, I threw him a questioning look.

"The view outside the window. The water that separates Bayonne and Staten Island. It's called the Arthur Kill." Silently, I nodded. "What do you think of my offices? You like?"

Feeling my cheeks redden, I nodded. "Yes, this space is nice. Guess I didn't know what to expect after seeing the outside and the hallway."

Eric shrugged. "My needs are few. I saw no reason to renovate the whole building."

"So why'd you buy a whole build—" Realizing the answer before I finished the question, I let the words die on my lips.

As nice as the office suite was, the one thing Eric hadn't spent money on was lighting. Each of the offices had one overhead light fixture and one desk lamp; the conference room had two overhead fixtures. Eric deliberately installed low wattage light bulbs; the office space was noticeably dim.

So that I'd be out of Eric's way as he readied himself for his business associates, I sat myself at the secretary's desk. As I silently watched him, it wasn't lost on me how much care Eric took to ensure that he had asbolute control over the environment.

As I observed his movements, I felt that I understood.

He viewed everyone—_except, maybe, hopefully_, _me_—as an enemy that needed to be watched, guarded, possibly neutralized.

Finally, seeing Eric carry several trash baskets out into the hallway, I couldn't help feeling amused.

"What are you smiling at, Sookie?" he asked.

My grin widened. "I never saw you do housework before."

He chuckled. "I've been self-sufficient for a very long time."

His understated acknowledgment of reality hit home. I felt my smile fade. "Yeah, guess so."

Eric studied me. "It troubles you. It troubles you to think of what I am."

Not having a good answer to that one, I just shrugged.

A half-hour later, Eric's cell phone rang. After a brief conversation, he snapped it shut.

"That was Glassport. They are downstairs. I will get them. You remain here." Eric looked at me. "Stay at that desk. I will introduce you as my assistant. There should be a notepad and pens in one of the drawers. For your note-taking."

I nodded.

~oooOOOooo~

"What did you do after he left?" asks Amelia.

_What did I do?_

"I sat there and prayed," I tell her. "I prayed those guys didn't have any plans to cheat Eric. For all our sakes."

~oooOOOooo~

A few minutes later, I heard voices from the hallway. As the security card was slid through the access box, I stood. Eric entered the office first. Trailing after him were three men.

"Sookie." My eyes shot to Eric. "These gentlemen are here to discuss the property acquisition. This is Steve Newhouse." Newhouse was a middle-aged man with sandy-colored hair.

"This is Rafe Prudhomme." Prudhomme was balding, a little older than Newhouse.

"This is their lawyer, Johan Glassport." Glassport was younger—and sleazier—than his two colleagues, with slicked back dark hair.

"Nice to meet you," I mumbled as I shook each one's hand. Lowering my shields, I peered into the thoughts of each one.

_Fucking office is a shithole. Only good shit he's got is the Corvette and the blonde, _thought Newhouse.

_About fucking time we have this sit-down, _thought Prudhomme.

_Wonder how much he pays the eye-candy. _I was right about Glassport's sleaziness.

Smiling blandly, I led the way into the conference room. "Gentlemen, please. This way."

As I walked past the lawyer, I kept my face blank but winced internally at the increasingly depraved nature of his thoughts about me.

Startled at first, I realized Eric knew exactly what Glassport was thinking. Mindreading ability aside, it wasn't like the lawyer made any effort to disguise his thoughts; he certainly didn't attempt to mask his grotesque leer.

"Ms. Stackhouse is more than just my assistant," announced Eric quietly. "You would do well to remember that."

Although Eric's voice was low, his meaning was clear.

Glassport, smirking, nodded. "Of course." He took one last opportunity to make eye contact with me. I kept my face expressionless.

"Gentlemen, please sit." I struggled to contain a nervous twitter as Eric pushed a chair at Glassport, lightly hitting the lawyer's leg. "I have asked Ms. Stackhouse to sit in on the meeting."

Eric walked to head of the table and gestured for me to take the seat next to him.

Pen and notepad in hand, I made my way over to Eric. As he held the chair out for me to sit, he caught me off-guard by running his fingers lightly over my back. Embarrassed, I blushed. "Hearing" Glassport's imaginings of my relationship with Eric, I blushed even more.

As I struggled to regain my composure, the meeting commenced.

"Northman, let's look at the plans," said Newhouse.

Newhouse gestured at Prudhomme, who proceeded to stand up and place a large round canister on the table. Opening the canister, Prudhomme pulled out a large roll of paper. Together, the two men unrolled the papers to reveal diagrams, aerial maps, and architectural drawings.

"Here's the site on the aerial." Prudhomme pointed to a building circled in red on an aerial map.

"You see there's access from Pier Street and from East 2nd Street." Newhouse pointed to the map.

Silently, Eric nodded as he looked at the photographs. "The building is functional? That is part of my requirement, you understand. For the price you're asking—and your terms—I am expecting a trouble-free start up when I am ready for manufacturing to begin."

Silently communicating with his clients, the lawyer cast a cursory gaze at the two developers before responding to the question. "Yes, Mr. Northman," Glassport nodded. "I assure you. The site has undergone no changes since it was last in use—more than ten years ago. There should be little wrangling with the government-aside from the norm."

I cleared my throat. Eric glanced at me.

"I'm sorry," I threw an apologetic look at the men. "I need to step out for a sec. Be right back."

Eric's eyes found mine. "Are you still feeling unwell?"

"A little."

"I will escort you."

Wordlessly I nodded, gripping my notepad.

"Gentlemen, Ms. Stackhouse has been experiencing dizzy spells. I'm going to accompany her. We'll only be a few minutes."

Rising, Eric and I together walked out of the suite. Once in the hallway, Eric grabbed my arm—a little tightly, I thought—and led me into an unlocked office suite.

"Ouch," I groused as I shook his hand off me. "My arm."

"I'm sorry." He dropped his hand from my arm. "What did you hear?"

I shoved my notepad at him. "Here. I wrote it down."

Eric glanced down at the notes, reading it quickly before looking up. "This was all?"

"Those were the things they thought that were different from what they said."

"Do you understand what this means?"

I stared at him. "Eric, I told you I don't know anything about this stuff. It sounds like because the building hasn't been used in such a long time and you're gonna have to retrofit it, it's triggering these environmental regulations. It's also in a floodplain and you're gonna have to get flood insurance."

Eric frowned. He retreated into his own world. I watched. I found myself curious as to what he was thinking.

"Eric?"

He turned to look at me and waited expectantly.

"What are you going to do?"

"That is what I am trying to decide."

"Well, you should tell them the deal's off. If you can't trust them, you can't do business with them."

Eric's looked at me darkly. It seemed he didn't agree with my opinion.

"Sookie—" He stopped.

"Yeah?" As I waited for him to continue, I fought back a shiver.

"When we go back in there, I'm going to convince them to sell me the property in a fair transaction."

I didn't know what he meant by "convince"—or what he would deem "a fair transaction." I did know I was afraid to ask on both counts.

"Eric, do I need to go back in there?" I asked.

I hoped he'd say no. I didn't want to see Eric "convince" anyone of anything. I figured I could imagine what he would do, but imagining it and seeing it with your own eyes were two different things.

As he seemed quietly contemplative, I thought maybe Eric was actually considering my request. My hopes were dashed when finally he spoke.

"Yes. It will be good for you."

Okay. I wasn't sure what he meant by that but I reminded myself that guys are from Mars while women are from Venus anyway, right? That only one of us required oxygen to breathe didn't make a difference.

Did it?

Taking a deep breath, I followed Eric back out into the hallway and braced myself for what was to come.

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><p><strong>AN: Whew! Thank goodness you guys are still reading this. Thank you! Thanks esp to Queen D for her patience. ;) <strong>

**Thank you so much for reading and nominating "Your Autumn Moon," "Return of the Stackhouse Six," and "Oh No! Vampire Bill!" for the Fangie Awards. Google "Fangie Awards" if you don't know what I'm talking about. If you're trying to read "Stackhouse Six," google "Miral" and "Stackhouse Six" for the page with the characters' costumes. I know none of the hyperlinks on my profile works. It's FF, not me. Thanks. :)**


	19. the prize at the end of the rope, 3

**Characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I just gave them my hometown and a little bit of my attitude. New Jersey continues to belong to itself.**

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><p>Though I tried to keep my breathing even as we made our way back to the office, I wasn't very successful.<p>

Finally Eric stopped us outside the door of the office suite.

"Sookie, relax." He grabbed my hands and lowered his head so that his eyes were level with mine. "I need you to act normally. We do not want them to take action before we do."

_Relax?_

"Relax?" I cried, exasperated. "Eric, I have no idea what you expect me to do in there!"

"Relax and I will tell you what I expect you to do." Eric gently rubbed my palms, making rhythmic circular motions. Unexpectedly, I felt myself relaxing. "I expect you to read their minds and, when I instruct you to, to tell me what you hear."

"Okay," I nodded. "I can do that." Emboldened by a sudden wave of calm, I couldn't let it go at that. "But I need to say something first."

Curious, Eric looked at me, expectantly.

"I can't be involved in something where people get hurt." I let out a breath and hurried to get the rest out before I chickened out. "I can't. I don't want anyone getting hurt because of me. And I don't want to witness anything."

There were many aspects of our relationship that were unnatural; I'd had no choice but to alter how I viewed myself since I'd been with Eric but—_God help me_—I was not a murderer.

Staring at Eric, I willed him to see this, to understand this.

Eric unwaveringly met my gaze. Bringing his hands up to my face, gently he caressed my temple.

I found myself fighting the urge to close my eyes.

"I will not cause them physical harm."

Relieved, I let out another breath. I knew he gave himself a loophole with his answer, but I also knew I didn't exactly have a whole lot of say in the matter. He could have just as easily told me it was his intention to kill them for their duplicity. As for me—even if my great-grandfather and my newly discovered Fae kin were somewhat of a deterrent —I still feared Eric would wake up one night and deem me a risk he was better off without.

As it was, every day he let me live was a day he demonstrated his trust in me.

And every day I proved myself worthy of this trust bode well for me.

But I knew Eric would always be on the lookout for signs that I was no longer worthy of his trust.

It was ingrained in his survival instincts.

I figured right then was one of those times.

I swallowed my reservations.

"So, are you ready, Sookie?"

"Yeah," I replied. "I'm ready."

Eric laid a kiss on my forehead. "That's my girl." He grinned at me. "Business before pleasure. In return for your help with business this evening, I'll owe you lots of pleasure."

Not amused, I let out a snort. "I don't want any pleasure. I just want this to be over."

"Soon."

Moments later, we had rejoined the men in the conference room. I returned to my seat while Eric, instead of returning to the table, hung by the doorway.

"Everything okay?" Johan Glassport asked. Dipping into his head, I saw his thoughts were crude; he figured we'd left to have a "quickie".

I smiled wanly. "It's a stomach bug, I think."

Newhouse wondered if Eric had knocked me up but he thought that unlikely. Eric's pale complexion and low body temperature led him to suspect he had a serious illness, like cancer. I almost thought that was nice of him, to have concern that Eric was ill, but then I caught on to the rest of his thought.

Newhouse wanted to get the deal done before Eric's health failed.

He thought it best that Eric die before he figured out they'd screwed him.

_Well, hell._

I faked a cough to cover my start of surprise. Eric turned his head to look at me. I gave him my crazy smile. He frowned.

"Tell me."

My mouth went dry. I licked my lips.

"Tell me, Sookie." Eric's voice was a deadly calm.

"Newhouse..." I hesitated.

"What about him?"

"He thinks you're sick."

"I—" Steve Newhouse looked at me, his face pale, a mask of horror slowly being etched onto his features as he obviously did his best to recall his thoughts of a moment earlier.

My heart fell. I'd never done anything like this. I looked at Eric. In the dim light, he did look pale. His flesh was like alabaster. He didn't look human.

_But he wasn't human, _I reminded myself.

"What else, Sookie?"

"He's hoping you don't find out something."

Newhouse, who was nearly as white as Eric now, stared at me. Prudhomme, a confused look on his face, didn't understand the undercurrent in the room. Glassport, possibly a bit more savvy to the unexplained phenomena of the world, cast a speculative gaze in my direction.

"Sookie?"

I looked at Eric and in that instant it was like I was looking at the devil himself.

"They were gonna cheat you. Getting the plant up and running is gonna cost _a lot more_ than they're letting on."

Eric nodded and smiled in my direction before once more turning his attention to the developers.

"How much?" He directed their question to the men.

"What?" replied Prudhomme.

"How much more will the project cost?"

I noticed Glassport had covertly brought his hand to the underside of the table. Peeking into his thoughts, I read only that he was determined to live. Glancing under the table, I saw the man held something in his hand. Maybe it was a gun. Or maybe it was a cell phone. Maybe the man feared for his life. Maybe all he wanted was to call the police.

But in that instant my loyalty belonged to Eric.

"Eric, Glassport's got something under the table."

A cool character, Glassport didn't bat an eye at my ratting him out. Eric calmly walked over to the table and held his hand out.

After a moment's hesitation, Glassport gave Eric the object he held under the table. I gasped when I saw what it was: a gun.

Eric, meanwhile, just let out a bark of laughter.

"Mr. Glassport, don't you know it's not polite to shoot while in a meeting?"

Eric proceeded to smash the pistol into the table, easily splintering it into dozens of little pieces.

I glanced at the three men, noting the moment it registered just how deep the trouble they were in actually was.

"How much?" asked Eric again. "It must be significant, considering your ruse to keep it hidden from me. What is the true cost of redeveloping the site?"

Listening in, I heard a figure from Prudhomme. It was a lot of money.

"We weren't—" Prudhomme started to offer some kind of explanation but Eric had no patience for it.

"Quiet!" he said. "Don't you understand? You cannot lie to me. _She_," Eric gestured to me, "knows when you lie and _I_ know when you lie."

Newhouse, Prudhomme, and Glassport all turned to stare at me. The two older men looked at me like I had horns, a tail, and was carrying a pitchfork. Glassport, on the other hand…Once again, I got the sense from Glassport, that this wasn't as unthinkable to him as it was to the other two men.

_Telepath…? _Thought Glassport. My eyes zeroed in on him. He was sending me a question. Realizing I wasn't going to answer him that way, he asked again, the normal way.

"You...are a telepath?" asked Glassport.

Not knowing how to respond, I pulled my eyes from Glassport and looked to Eric. Eric shrugged so I nodded.

Glassport decided he had more to say. "In that case, I'll tell you everything as long as I walk away unharmed."

Eric smiled but it stopped short of his eyes. I knew he was seeing the loophole.

"Agreed," Eric nodded. "Now speak."

"Complying with the flood requirements will cost at least one million, but that's not the main issue. Although it isn't reflected on any historical accounts, the site once housed a manufacturing gas plant."

Glassport paused to see if this rang any bells with us. It didn't with me but I saw Eric was familiar with the term.

"The land is contaminated…" Eric observed.

"Very," confirmed Glassport. "There's a high concentration of toxic materials in the soil. Any effort to elevate the building for flood compliance would reveal the contamination."

Eric nodded thoughtfully.

I watched the men, as they made silent eye contact with one another. Frightened, each of the three men seemed to be thinking the same thing: What next?

Finally one of them spoke.

"What now?" asked Glassport.

Eric walked over to the lawyer and crouched down so that they were eyelevel. Glancing at Eric's eyes I could tell he was hypnotizing the man. Glassport fell silent.

Newhouse and Prudhomme exchanged a look. If they had been scared before, they were utterly terrified now.

Eric walked over to stand across the table from them. Leaning over, Eric caught Newhouse's eyes first, then Prudhomme's. He didn't say anything aloud, but with his eyes he told them to be quiet; he told them to be still. After a moment I realized the only sound in the room was my own loud nervous breaths. I willed myself calm.

"Eric?"

"Yes?"

"What're you going to do?" My words came out as a whisper.

"I am going to glamour them into turning the property over to me."

"You mean for free?"

"I suppose, for taxation purposes, there ought to be a nominal amount involved."

"But that's not right. It's stealing."

"What they did was right?"

"No, I'm not saying that. But two wrongs don't make a right."

Eric smiled benevolently at me, like he was indulging a cute but slow-witted puppy.

"Yes, well, I'm seeking reparations for the stress they've caused me, the stress they've caused _us_."

Not happy, I just glared at him. But he wasn't interested in placating me or my pesky sense of right and wrong.

"My lover, at least I'm letting them live."

I felt myself go numb. I knew Eric had killed people or destroyed others of his kind for survival as well as for other reasons—reasons I'm sure I didn't want to dwell on.

But I'd convinced myself that that had been in the past.

Here he was, in the 21st century, with plenty of money to live on. He didn't need to kill anymore. I couldn't understand why that was even something he'd consider. Unless he was just saying it to remind me of what he was. I felt tears well up in my eyes and I swallowed hard. I sat back and waited while Eric talked the men through in their altered states of conscious, instructing them on what they were to do the following day.

I just sat back and closed my eyes.

I wondered for the millionth time just what I'd gotten myself into.

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><p><strong>AN: Whew! I had to slice the chappie into three parts but at least I got it posted! It's like riding a bicycle. Just need to get used to it again. <strong>

**Lesson Learned: Sticking to canon is tough. I can almost understand the True Blood writers tossing the books out the window. Sometimes I forget Sookie's a telepath and I realize what I have written doesn't make sense. Then its back to the drawing board. **

**Thanks again for the Fangie Award nominations. I always think when watching awards shows that the nominees are full of it when they blah blah blah about it being an honor to be nominated, even if they don't win. Well, I have eat my blah blah words. It *is* an honor just to be nominated. I'm ABSOLUTELY THRILLED that three of my fics were nominated. (Like children, I love them all equally.) If you're trying to read my eldest, "Stackhouse Six," google "Miral" and "Stackhouse Six" for the page with the characters' casting and costumes. Fanfic disabled the hyperlinks. **

**Thank you for reading! **


	20. Burden in my Hand

**Characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I just gave them my hometown and a little bit of my attitude. New Jersey belongs to itself. **

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><p>Eric glamoured Newhouse and Prudhomme into selling him the property for what I gathered was a ridiculously low price, about a quarter of a million dollars. Of course, with my waitress salary and gran's rent control apartment, that kind of money still seemed like monopoly money to me. Even so Eric assured me that the property, even with the added cleanup costs he would have to incur, was worth far more than what he paid.<p>

For my part, I was just relieved he didn't steal the property outright. For that matter, I was _really_ relieved he hadn't decided to kill the men for their duplicity.

We didn't speak of the incident for a few days. Grateful, I was trying to just put it behind me and not think of it. I was caught by surprise the following week when Eric asked me to accompany him to the closing. Feeling I had no real choice in the matter, I agreed.

That day at the Dog, I mulled it over in my mind. I didn't understand why Eric wanted me there. He wasn't stupid. He saw how much the episode upset me. Really, I wanted to forget about it. The only theory I could come up with—for a reason why he wanted me to see the men—was that he wanted me to see that they were okay.

If that was his intention, it didn't quite work.

The closing was to take place at Glassport's offices in Jersey City. The attorney's practice was located in a thirty-story blue-gray glass tower overlooking the Hudson River.

I was quiet during the drive over, prompting Eric to throw me several looks of concern. I ignored them. Finally, once we'd pulled into the building's parking lot, he turned off the engine. Fixing his gaze on me, he spoke.

"Is something wrong, Sookie?"

I turned to face him. Should I say anything? Should I tell him I was starting to feel like I was married to the mob? If I complained, would it prompt him to wonder about my loyalty? But then I remembered the blood thing. I figured he'd know eventually anyway what I was feeling. Telling him upfront might get me points for honesty.

"I don't want to be a part of anything criminal," I replied.

Eric nodded at my comment like it was what he was expecting me to say. I guess it wasn't that big of a news story.

"I recognize this about you."

"I didn't like you stealing—"

"I paid good money—"

"Not what it was worth."

"It was more than they deserved."

Eric's comment gave me pause. The men's flagrant willingness to cheat Eric—even though they thought he was sick or dying—certainly hadn't been lost on me. They'd probably pulled that crap countless times before, unloading contaminated sites on unsuspecting would-be business developers.

But there was more than that to consider. There were also _my feelings_.

There was the fact that he'd used knowledge obtained by _my_ gift as the rope to hang them.

"Maybe they were creeps and crooks but I don't want to act like them. I don't want to play by their rules."

Eric, still staring at me, fell silent. Finally he turned away from me. I watched his profile as he seemed to consider my words.

"Sookie, when the blood substitute is perfected, I will be an extremely wealthy businessman. I am already wealthy. The coming months will bring great changes."

"Yeah? Well, once you come out, so to speak, it won't be as easy to get away with stuff like this anyway."

Eric nodded. "Yes, yes. There are definite drawbacks..."

I sucked in a breath and stared at him. _Drawbacks? What, exactly, was his preferred business strategy? Don't dwell on it, _I told myself.

"…to revealing ourselves but, it is felt that more will be gained than will be lost."

I wasn't sure how to respond to that. I'm actually a pretty pragmatic person usually. But since I knew of the existence of vampires—and shifters, too, for that matter—pragmatism has taken on a whole new meaning. But I figured I could at least pinpoint for Eric the matter at hand, the one we were discussing.

"Well, I don't like feeling that my ability leaves folks worse off. Sure, I know they were ready to cheat you and they've probably cheated lots of people but I was able to make sure that didn't happen." I took a breath. "That should be enough."

"I agree. Your gift was instrumental in identifying a threat. I dealt with it as appropriate. The men still live, Sookie. Remember that. As for the future...let's hope I have no further cause for suspicion and no further need for your gift."

Wordlessly, I nodded. I'd said what I wanted to say. Now, it was just up to fate.

We climbed out of the car and made our way to the building, Ten Exchange Place. After a few minutes, we were exiting the elevator onto the 28th floor. Entering Glassport's suite, we were met by a smartly dressed receptionist. I saw the plaque on her desk that her name was Selah Pumphrey. She smiled perfunctorily at Eric, and me although I got the definite sense that the greeting she gave Eric was a bit more genuine than the one she bestowed on me. Seeing her designer suit, I was glad I'd decided to dress up. Although I wasn't wearing a suit, I did have on a rather smart pencil skirt and crisp white shirt.

"They're waiting for you in the middle conference room, Mr. Northman."

"Has my lawyer arrived?"

"Mr. Cataliades is in there as well."

"Thank you." Eric turned and, smiling, offered me his hand. I looped my arm in his and we made our way to the conference room. I found myself oddly excited to be meeting Eric's lawyer. Until he'd asked for him, I hadn't realized Eric's lawyer was going to be present at the closing. In the months I'd known Eric, I had never met any of his "friends." Although, maybe "acquaintances" was a better word for the people Eric allowed into his life. Still, I knew he trusted his lawyer with a lot of his business related activities. I'd often wondered what this Mr. Cataliades was like.

I didn't have long to wonder. Upon entering the conference room, I saw that Mr. Cataliades was a large round man with a bald head, dark beady eyes and very sharp teeth. It crossed my mind that maybe he was a vampire, but his mental shadow was different from Eric's so I knew he wasn't. He wasn't human. I knew that much.

Despite the mouth full of canines, he gave me a pleasant smile. I returned the smile and offered my own polite greeting.

"I hear you live in Brooklyn, Ms. Stackhouse."

"That's right," I nodded.

"A lovely city. I lived there myself for a number of years but I haven't lately. Not since they built the bridge."

Brooklyn's most recently constructed bridge was the Verrazzano, which opened in the 1960s. The oldest bridge, the Brooklyn Bridge, dated back to the 1880s.

I was pretty sure Cataliades meant the Brooklyn Bridge. My hunch was supported by the fact that Brooklyn hadn't been a city in more than a hundred years, not since it had been annexed by New York City at the turn of the 20th century.

Nonplussed, I nodded.

"Sookie," Eric gestured for me to join him.

I walked over to where Eric stood speaking with Newhouse, Prudhomme, and Glassport. Before I had a chance to say anything, Eric cut me off.

"Sookie, this is Steve Newhouse, Rafe Prudhomme, and Johan Glassport. Gentlemen, my assistant, Sookie Stackhouse."

I turned my slightly confused smile to the men. "Hi," I sputtered. Watching their faces, I detected not a trace of recognition. Their words, too, seemed out of character, more respectful than the first time I'd met them.

"Hello, ma'am."

"Nice to meet you."

"Hello, Ms. Stackhouse."

Dipping into their minds, I confirmed they had absolutely no memory of having met me before. Unlike the first time we met, their thoughts about me now were all G-rated enough for Disney.

A cold shiver went through me as I realized the extent of Eric's hypnosis abilities.

How do people live with their memories erased? It's as though parts of them were missing. Albeit, disgusting parts. But still…

And it made me think about myself, about my own situation. No wonder Eric felt he had to kill me when he realized he couldn't glamour me. Glamour made it so easy for him.

It's like the "Men in Black" mind-eraser pen.

I couldn't help but wonder: what happens the day I witness something Eric doesn't want me to know?

I smiled wanly at the men and made small talk for the next hour. Eric spared me a few thoughtful glances. While his intention had been to put my mind at ease, he knew seeing the men glamoured had had the opposite effect on me.

Until then, I'm not sure he was aware of the full extent of my trepidation.

Now he knew.

We both did.

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><p><strong>AN: Chapter title is from a Soundgarden song. I said I'd finish YAM. Looks like 10 or so chapters more depending on how wordy I get. Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing and all your support over the years. <strong>


	21. The Turning Point

**Characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I just gave them my hometown and a little bit of my attitude. New Jersey belongs to itself.**

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><p>"So this is the source of your conflict?" asks Amelia. "The dichotomy of his character?"<p>

Looking at her, I see that the therapist's eyebrows are drawn in. _Dichotomy_. I've noticed she sometimes hides behind big words to buy time while she's processing her thoughts.

"Yeah," I answer. "I guess that's as good a way to describe it as any…"

"Eric is…" Amelia falters. An uncomfortable quiet descends.

"Eric is a vampire, Amelia," I finish for her. "They really do exist and I'm dating one."

"Ah, yes." Staring at me, she hesitates on her next words. I know what she's going to ask before she does so but I bite my tongue on my reply, out of politeness. "Has he hurt you since that time on the fire escape?"

"No," I say, shaking my head.

"Has he hurt anyone you care about?"

I look at Amelia. _He's hurt you_. _And you don't even know…_

Wordlessly, I shake my head again. To say it aloud would be a lie. Not saying it aloud is still a lie.

We sit in silence for a moment. It's not a long time, but I find myself battling the tears that are filling my eyes.

"Okay," she nods. "So, what happened next?"

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><p><strong>AN: I know this might qualify for the shortest chapter ever but I'm so happy to be back on this, I felt like shouting it out. Reviews - or words of encouragement at this point - always welcome. Thank you, thank you, thank you! And what's with all the new functionality on this website? <strong>


	22. You Come Around You'll Make Me Whole

**Characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I just gave them my hometown and a little bit of my attitude. New Jersey belongs to itself. Or maybe to Chris Christie? **

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><p>Things got more or less back to normal after that. Well, they got back to whatever passed as normal for a part-fairy telepath dating a vampire.<p>

For a little while, anyway. Eric had to attend to some business out of town, so I was on my own for a few days.

On the one hand, I was relieved to have a few days to myself.

On the other hand, even though I knew Claudine was around, I still felt compelled to step up my game as Sookie, Brooklyn Ninja Warrier, iron and super soaker in tow.

A few days after the closing, I was lying on my bed, lolling away the time, grateful to have a day off. Ignoring the library book that lay open across my chest, instead I stared at the ceiling. Studying the moulding reminded me that Sam had mentioned the earlier in the week that it was time to clean the bar's ceiling and the light fixtures.

Sam. Then I found myself daydreaming about what my boss looked like as a dog.

Fighting a ridiculous pang of jealousy, I thought for a moment how wonderful it would be if I could transform into a dog. That seemed a much more straightforward gift than the one I had.

Telepathy. Seeing through people's words into their minds. _Or_…

Being a dog. Peeing and doing your business outside.

Not feeling like doing anything, I closed my eyes and imagined myself as a dog, a blonde-poodle-like dog, burying and digging up bones in the small yard behind the Salty Dog.

All of a sudden, a charged crinkling in the air next to me alerted me to the fact that I'd soon have a guest. Tossing my book aside, I grabbed an iron trowel in one hand and a water gun in the other. I could hear my heart pounding as I watched the air vibrate next to me. Gradually a form appeared.

Claudine.

"Hi, cuz," my cousin greeted me. "How are you?" The ever beautiful, ever stylish Claudine towered over me in her designer skinny jeans and sequined top. Seeing what I held in my hands, she frowned. "What's with the unwelcome party?"

Letting out a loud sigh of relief, I felt myself collapse. I dropped the garden tool and the Super Soaker Point Break onto the floor and, bending over, clutched my knees, trying to calm my breaths.

"What's the matter, Sookie? Doggie got your tongue?" Claudine picked up a dirty t-shirt from my chair and gave it a disdainful look before depositing it onto my bed and taking a seat. "I don't know how you are able to spend so much of your time with a shifter. And then there's your vampire, of course. No accounting for taste, I guess."

Ignoring my cousin's rambling, I concentrated on getting enough oxygen to my head to so that I wouldn't pass out.

Claudine, meanwhile, was finally cottoning on to the fact that all was not well in Sookie-land.

"Sookie?" I could hear her confusion. "Are you okay?"

Lifting my head up, I glared at her. "Claudine! You can't just show up like that! Not without giving me some kind of heads up that you're coming by! I could have super-soaked you!" I gestured to my Lowes and Toys R Us-acquired arsenal of weapons. "Or...or _troweled_ you! _Or whatever the hell it is a person does with a trowel_!"

"Oh." Her exuberance somewhat dampened, a frown marred my cousin's perfect features. "I think you can use trowel as a verb, hon."

"Not the point, Claudine!" Straightening my back, I stood up and continued to glower at her.

"No, I think I see your point, Sookie," my cousin replied quietly. I watched as her pouty, red-stained lips stretched into a smile that ended well before her eyes. Staring into her eyes, for a split second, I thought I could see her true age. Then it was gone. The silence echoed around us. Finally, Claudine shrugged. "I'm sorry. But, Sookie, it really couldn't be helped. It was a last minute thing. Anyway, we don't have time for this. You need to get dressed."

My brain latched on to my cousin's words.

_It couldn't be helped. It was a last minute thing._

I continued to stare at Claudine. Why would she decide to visit me at the last minute? Why would a visit from her constitute being "a last minute thing"? It didn't make any sense.

And then it did.

It wasn't her visit she was referring to. It was something else. Something else that was _a last minute thing_.

I watched silently as Claudine stood and walked over to my closet. Parsing through the clothes, once in a while she would take something out and give it a once-over before hanging it back up. Finally she found a black skirt that she liked and laid it on the bed.

_Anyway, we don't have time for this. You need to get dressed._

"Claudine! What's going on?"

I hadn't known my cousin very long. I certainly didn't know her very well. Since she wasn't human, I couldn't read her thoughts. But I didn't have to read a person's thoughts to be able to tell when someone seemed nervous. And the way my cousin was avoiding answering me made me wonder if she was nervous.

"Claudine! What aren't you telling me?"

Finally, Claudine turned away from where she was poking around in my closet and faced me. "Sookie, there's nothing I'm not telling you. How can you say that? I told you how your Great Grandfather was interested in meeting you."

"Yeah, you did tell me that."

In the quiet that filled the air, my brain latched onto the meaning of my cousin's words, both spoken and unspoken.

"You mean _now_? He's coming here _now_?!" My words an unpleasant screech, I leapt across the room and angrily tore the blouse from my cousin's hands. "Claudine, is my great grand father coming to my apartment right now? Yes or no?"

"Don't be silly. Not now." I watched as Claudine moved away from me and ran her fingertip along my dresser. "He was going to visit with my brother Claude first. Then, I'm pretty sure you were going to be his next stop. He'll be here sometime within the hour I should think."

I trailed after Claudine as she abandoned my bedroom for the kitchen.

"But why today? Why like this?"

Bending down, Claudine poked her head into the cabinet under the sink and grabbed a dust cloth and furniture polish.

"I told you. Niall is very into family," she chirped back cheerfully as she made her way through my apartment. "Even the half-breeds."

I followed her back into my bedroom and watched silently as she proceeded to dust my dresser.

"Sookie, I can tidy up here. You should shower and get dressed."

Hands on my hips, I stood my ground. I wasn't showering until I understood what was going on.

"Why today, Claudine? Why—all of a sudden—is he so hot to see _me_?" Remembering her words, I threw them back at her. "Why was it such _a last minute thing_?"

I watched as Claudine efficiently wiped off the dresser. She deftly dusted the nightstand, touching only the areas not covered with iron tools.

"Well? Why, Claudine?"

Finally my cousin stopped what she was doing and turned back to meet my gaze. She turned away before she spoke.

"Niall can be… _mercurial,_" she said, with a brusque nod.

I watched as she resumed her cleaning frenzy. The hesitation in Claudine's voice piqued my curiosity. It was like she'd been grasping for something to say and was pleased to come up with something that sounded half-way plausible. Contemplating the real meaning that lay behind my cousin's words, I looked up only to realize she had once more left me standing alone.

I found her in the bathroom cleaning the mirror.

"Claudine, we both know there's more to it than that." Don't we? I certainly thought we did. "What's the _real reason_ Niall is coming to see me today? Without warning? Not a word in advance?"

I watched as my cousin finished wiping down the vanity.

"Well," she said as she straightened and faced me, "he might be a little curious about _your_ vampire's business venture."

"_My" vampire's business venture?_

There was a lot wrong with that and it wasn't with the first part as I'd long given up trying to get Claudine to stop referring to Eric as "my" vampire.

"What does Niall want to _know_ about Eric's business venture? And why is he coming to me? Why can't he just ask Eric himself? They know each other."

Claudine's eyes never left my face, her expression radiating warmth and affection. I scowled.

"Oh, Niall is not one to do things himself if he doesn't have to." My cousin shrugged. "Why should he?"

Her words hung in the air. I turned them over in my head as I wondered how to respond. I finally decided on honesty.

More or less.

"Well, I don't know anything about Eric's business."

"But you went with him to a business meeting." Mentally I kicked myself for confiding in her. But, for all I knew, she had a peephole into my life anyway. She was my fairy godmother, after all.

"Okay, so I went to a meeting. That doesn't mean I know anything," I retorted. "I watched them sign papers. He bought some old building in New Jersey. It's nothing you can't get from Google or the newspaper."

My cousin just looked at me, a half smile on her face.

"Oh, Sookie, you're a smart one. I told you before Niall is going to like you. And, I'm sure you know more than you realize."

Pouting, I stared at Claudine. She returned my glare with her usual bubbly effervescence.

"Sookie, don't be nervous. He's your great grandfather, after all. Your blood, your kin." She reached out for me and pat my shoulder to comfort me. Closing my eyes, I allowed myself a moment of ease before returning to my bearings with a start.

_I'm sure you know more than you realize._

My cousin's words reverberated in my head. They were almost a tangible entity that I felt land on me and bore into my shoulders, an intense pressure that nothing could ameliorate.

For someone "so smart," I sure managed to get myself into a lot of trouble.

~oooOOOooo~

"That must have been a disappointment to you," Amelia says.

Lost in my thoughts, I turn a puzzled look at her.

Sensing my confusion, she elaborates.

"That your great grandfather had an ulterior motive in seeing you."

I shrug. It was far from the worst thing I'd witnessed in my life. I still believe Claudine was being sincere. I still believe my great grandfather had wanted to meet me. It just seemed that—since he saw an opportunity for me to help him—he scheduled the meeting a little sooner than he would have otherwise.

I could see in his action some odd confirmation of his kinship. I could recognize in him my own predilection towards pragmatism. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"It's not unusual for people to have multiple reasons for doing things, Amelia."

"Yeah, granted," she agrees. "But I'm not talking about all people here, Sookie. I'm _your_ therapist and I'm trying to figure out how much your great grandfather's visit _hurt_ _you_."

Tears well up and I choke on my next words.

"Thank you, Amelia. Thank you." Grateful, I look at her.

She nods and offers me a comforting smile.

I hate myself for what I do to her.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for all the kind words for the mini-chapter. See? It helped spark things up again. I'm sorry the updates dropped off. RL has kicked me in the butt in mostly good yet time-consuming ways. Chapter title is from Audioslave's song, "Out of Exile." If you know the next line in the chorus, you'll have a hint of things to come. Next chapter in the works...<strong>


	23. Send My Soul Away

**Characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I just gave them my hometown and a little bit of my attitude. **

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><p><strong> ~oooOOOooo~<strong>

"So what was your great grandfather like, Sookie?"

As I sit back on the small sofa, I think about how to answer Amelia's question.

"He's rather awesome. Beautiful and mysterious." Like Eric, I think to myself. "I have to remind myself how deadly fairies are when I'm only with Claudine. But with Niall…"

"With Niall, it's different?"

"Definitely. You can sense something hard and dangerous under the surface." Amelia registers that and I was as a slightly strange look comes over her face. I fight the urge to dip into her mind and pluck out her thoughts; instead I decide to just ask a question of my own.

"Do you know any fairies, Amelia?"

A wan smile appears on her face. "I suspect I do, Sookie." Resolutely, she shakes her head. "But that is not what we are here to discuss. How did your meeting with your great grandfather go?"

"Okay, I guess." I shrug. Considering how things could have gone, it went as well as it could have. "I didn't see a way out of doing what he—and Claudine—wanted me to do, that's for sure."

"You didn't' feel that you had a choice?" she asks.

_Choice_. Like an option? As in _you_ are the one in control? And _you_ decide what you do?

"Choice…" I snicker. "I'm not even sure that word's in my dictionary any more."

~oooOOOooo~

When he'd first appeared, my great-grandfather had taken my hand in his and lightly kissed my cheek; unlike with Eric, I felt the warmth of his flesh. As he drew back, his deep green eyes penetrated mine. So unlike any creature I'd ever met before, it was hard to pull away.

Unlike Eric, who I connected with in a very regular, "human" (ha-ha) kind of way, my great grandfather left me feeling in awe. Much more so than with Claudine, I was very conscious of my great-grandfather's "otherness".

~oooOOOooo~

"Was this a problem?" asks Amelia.

"What do you think?" I reply.

~oooOOOooo~

My great grandfather, sitting tall on my Gran's tattered old chair, somehow managed to imbue the 40-year old textured fabric chair with a sense of regal purpose; it was like his aura alone had transformed the old, cranberry-colored armchair into a much prouder, prized antique. A throne. It seemed logical enough, since he was a fairy prince.

As for my great-grandfather's appearance, I hadn't known what to expect but I must admit he did not disappoint. Like Claudine, my great grandfather was a lovely, non-human creature. He was tall, slim, and impeccably dressed in a suit that was obviously very expensive. Like Eric, he was hundreds of years old. Unlike Eric, he aged. He had a slightly withered look, a crinkling of lines etched deep into his face. Despite this, he was still extremely handsome, and his hair, a pale gold, was as long as mine. He wore it pulled back neatly. Although I hadn't noticed a limp or problem with his gait (well, he had popped in, to be fair), he carried a cane, a simple black one with a gold head.

Claudine and I sat side-by-side on the sofa, across from Niall. Claudine channeled Gran and played hostess, making the introductions and replaying little tidbits of recent history, like anyone in the room had forgotten about what prompted our connection at this time. ("Sookie, Niall assigned me to watch over you, given the problems we have been having with Breandan…") Niall and I both listened politely, nodding at the right times and encouraging Claudine's continued monologue.

While I was confident that my inner turmoil was not evident from my expressions—inside I was a mess. You would think meeting your centuries-old fairy great grandfather would inspire questions—like how exactly did we come to be related? Where have you been all this time? Who of my relatives did you know? Sadly my brain was suffering from mental overload. Ironically, considering how frustrating I found her only a short time earlier, I was grateful to have Claudine there. It was the presence of my strange cousin that alone kept me tethered to my familiar reality.

"Your cousin's descriptions of you were accurate." The sound of my great-grandfather's voice jerked me from my musings.

Not exactly sure what he meant, I went with Gran's advice and made what I hoped was an appropriate response.

"Thank you."

Niall and I quietly regarded one another.

"You are beautiful, certainly. Like your grandmother."

So he'd met—or at least, _seen_—my grandmother at some point. I smiled and echoed a second "thank you."

"You are curious as to how all this is so."

"Yes."

"I will tell you, but not this day. I am so glad to know you finally, and I want to

know you better." Leaning forward, he laid his hand against my cheek. "I have questions too. I should like to know what your father, my grandson, was like. Unfortunately, today I am constrained." He smiled at me; I felt some of the tension inside me ease. "I do not want for us to hurry our visit. Now is not the time. I have matters that I must tend to." As he dropped his hand from my cheek, he settled back on the chair and shot a loaded glance at Claudine.

I let out a breath. I can't honestly say I was disappointed. I wasn't sure I was ready to hear the story he had to tell anyway.

"You are aware of the synthetic blood."

I snapped back to attention and stared at him like a deer in headlights. It wasn't fully a question, I could tell, by his tone. Yet I felt compelled to answer, explain myself.

"Yes," I hesitated before adding, "Eric Northman told me about it."

"It will mean great changes in this world."

"Yeah, I get that…"

"Those changes can bring good. Or they can bring evil."

Something good—or evil—this way comes. I flashed back to watching "Something Wicked this Way Comes" with Jason when we were kids. Nervously, I realized my great-grandfather, with his heightened sense of gravity, reminded me slightly of Mr. Dark.

_Focus, Sookie, focus. _

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked. I was pleased that my voice didn't quiver.

"Great-granddaughter, I have come to you now because you are my kin and I need your help."

I nodded for him to continue.

"I own a number of businesses. One of my companies is working on developing a synthetic blood." _No shit._ I felt my eyes widen. "An enemy to us both is involved in a similar endeavor."

_An enemy to us both _

Although I was hanging on my great-grandfather's every word, they held no meaning to me. Lost, I looked questioningly at Claudine.

"Breandan, Sookie. Niall is referring to Breandan."

_Oh_. _Shit_.

We sat in silence as I absorbed that little tidbit. Lots of companies compete on being first to bring new technologies and innovations to the market. Being first usually brings a financial windfall.

I'd never taken an economics class in my life, but even I got that there was more at stake (ha ha) here than dollar signs.

"So whoever makes this synthetic blood first is going to have a lot of power over the vamps, huh?"

My great grandfather smiled at me. I thought I could detect a hint of pride in his glance as he looked at me. Just as quickly it was gone. I watched as Niall turned his head and gazed speculatively around my living room.

"It is not known yet, Child, how such developments would affect things."

"Yes, Grandfather. But we do know that Breandan's company being first would not be good."

Claudine had been silent as my great grandfather spoke. My eyes shot briefly to my cousin and then back to Niall to see his reaction to her words. I found myself suddenly filled with curiosity about their relationship.

"No, Claudine. You are right," my great-grandfather nodded as he cast his gaze on my cousin before settling back on me. "It is unlikely Breandan's forces being first will reap good things."

So Breandan and my great-grandfather were involved in some kind of lab-monkey race to see whose company would develop the synthetic blood for the vamps first. Given that, I could maybe understand a little bit better why my great-grandfather was a tad too preoccupied with business right now to spend a lot of time strolling down memory lane with me. What I didn't understand was what Eric's business project had to do with anything. Eric wasn't involved in developing the blood; he just wanted to be ready for the manufacturing once there was a need.

"Great-grandfather, I don't understand what you need me to do?"

"Eric Northman is developing a plant for manufacturing the blood."

"Yes."

"It has been reported to me that Northman is in talks to partner with Breandan's company."

Shocked into silence, I felt my mouth go dry. Eric wouldn't do that. Not knowing the risk Breandan was to me.

Or would he? Was this his way of negotiating for my life? But he would know better than to partner with Breandan.

Unbidden, Eric's words—from what seemed like a lifetime ago—resounded in my ears.

_The first one I'd take out is Niall. He is a polarizing figure. It would be a strategic move. The other Fairy leaders are weaker. Taking him out first would weaken the rest._

"Eric wouldn't do that. He knows Breandan's a threat to me."

Even as the words fell from my lips, the wheels in my head were turning, debating their veracity. Despite the risk involved, would Eric partner with Breandan _if_ he thought doing so would avert a war between the vampires and the Fae? I was startled from my reverie by my great-grandfather.

"It is unlikely the vampire is aware of Breandan's connection, Great-Granddaughter."

"_What?"_ I struggled regain my composure. "What makes you think that?"

"Breandan takes after his father, my brother Rogan," replied Niall. "He is a sly one."

"What Grandfather means Sookie is Breandan's very good at covering his tracks."

I stared back and forth between my fairy relatives. I didn't think underestimating Eric was a wise thing to do. In any case, while all this talk about the state of the Fairy rivalries was fascinating, there was still one issue we had failed to cover. Taking a deep breath, I decided to tackle it head on.

"Okay, so I think I get what you're telling me. But what I don't get is _what exactly you expect me to do about all this?_"

"Cut to the quick, don't you, Granddaughter?"

Niall smiled as he said this, leading me to I believe that my great-grandfather meant the observation to be a compliment, but I wasn't 100% sure.

"We need you to find out what companies your vampire is in talks with."

Again with "my" vampire. Inwardly, I rolled my eyes.

"How do you propose I do that?"

"You are with him often. He must make phone calls. Have you never been to his home?"

I actually hadn't ever been to Eric's home. I knew it was big and I knew it was on Harborview Terrace (I had caught a glimpse of his address on a magazine in his car). During moments of indulgence, when I allowed myself to think myself no different from any other girl in a relationship, I'd experience pangs of insecurity that Eric hadn't thought enough of me to bring me to his home.

But in this moment, as the part-fairy great granddaughter to a fairy prince, I was pretty damn grateful.

"No," I shook my head vehemently. "I've never been to his house. Just to the office. And only the one time."

Niall and Claudine exchanged a conspiratorial glance. My eyes darted from one to the other and for one of the few times in my life, I found myself wishing I could read their minds.

Finally Niall spoke.

"Well, perhaps you can just keep your eyes open when you are with the vampire."

"Eyes open? What do you mean?"

"When you see he has papers with him, documents, mail, read them. If you are at his home, look around. Ask him about the plant. As you were instrumental in his securing it, it will seem natural that you have an interest in its progress."

I wasn't so sure about Niall's last comment. Given my reaction to the whole ordeal, I thought Eric would find any questions from me about the plant acquisition very strange indeed. I felt a cold chill run down my spine. I definitely did not like the direction of this conversation at all. I struggled to keep my breaths regular.

"Sookie, you still have your iPhone, right?"

"Yeah…" I mumbled. Quirking an eyebrow, I looked over to my cousin.

"Well, why don't you just use the camera to take a picture if you happen to find something you think might be of interest to Niall? You don't have to spend time reading if that worries you. You could just snap a picture, send it to me and delete it. No harm, no foul." Claudine smiled, obviously pleased at her ingenuity.

I picked up the phone in question which lay on the side table to my right. Claudine's little do-it-yourself spying technique did make it seem very simple, very low-key. It's not like I never saw Eric's work-related papers. He often had documents in the car when he drove me. He might yet one day invite me to his house.

The thing that worried me was that I wasn't sure if I'd be able to get away with trying anything duplicitous with Eric at all. Since I'd had his blood, he still had the Sookie Meter/GPS combo. If I tried to deceive him about something—especially something relatively significant—I wasn't sure I could pull it off without detection. My cousin and great-grandfather could downplay it as much as they liked, spying on Eric at the direction of my great-grandfather, the Fairy prince, was a BFD as the Vice President would say.

I toyed with the idea of explaining about the blood to my Fairy relations but reconsidered. Claudine had commented on Eric not curing my arm after the Lochlan and Naeve pushed me off the subway platform. I realized I didn't know how much Claudine knew about my having Eric's blood and I wasn't sure how much I wanted her or my great-grandfather to know.

I rarely got headaches but I felt one coming on.

"Fine," I said quietly. Glancing outside I saw that dusk was setting. "I'll do it—but only on my terms. I'll keep my eyes open. I'll take pictures of stuff if I think it's okay and I'll ask Eric questions as long as it doesn't seem unusual." I let out a sigh. "What I won't do is snoop around his things." I turned to look at my great grandfather. "No poking through closed briefcases or opening closed drawers."

"Thank you, child. You are proving yourself my kin."

"Yeah, I guess I am."

_And you're proving yourself mine_, I thought cynically to myself.

"Ah, see?" Claudine stood, smiling. "I knew you two would get along great. Sookie, guess what we're gonna do? We're gonna have some protective wards placed on your apartment. How does that sound?"

"Great," I said. "That sounds great." _Protective wards? _I didn't even try to feign enthusiasm.

"Oh, you'll see."

~oooOOOooo~

Amelia's eyes widen.

"_Wards_? Did they do it?" asks Amelia. Dipping into her mind for a brief second, I can see that Amelia, too, does wards.

"Yeah," I nod. "They did."

"Did they work?"

I think about it. Apparently what _I_ need is a protective ward "bubble", like the Bubble Boy.

"I guess so." I reply. "Sort of."

_I could use one around my heart, too_.

~oooOOOooo~

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Just like riding a bicycle. Only with lots of canon and bombs in the garden to keep track of. Viking hugs to Lola White for the banner which I was miraculously able to crop. Thanks to Apple for the iDiot-proof photoeditor. I was going to wait until Thursday morning to update but I just found out I'm doing overnights this week (thanks alot Tropical Storm Isaac) and I need to stay awake now and what better way to stay awake than to obsessively check for reviews on Fanfic? LMAO. <strong>

**Shameless Ploy for Reviews: So, who wants to see Eric in the next chapter? Hmmm? Remember him?**


	24. The Sun Will Never Set Tonight

**Characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I just gave them my hometown and a little bit of my attitude.**

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><p>The next few days—characterized as they were by a slight dreamlike quality— passed quickly.<p>

After the unsettling visit from my fairy relations, I had to reconsider who I regarded as my "rock."

Viewing a fairy cousin who only "popped" into your life a few months earlier -right at the time you were nearly killed by a different fairy and you started to be courted by a vampire- was possibly not based in the soundest of logic.

I avoided Claudine's phonecalls, opting instead to text, and managed to dodge her suggestions that we meet up.

As for me, I felt that I had to do something normal with someone normal. Even going to work gave me no solace now that I knew Sam was different.

I called up my friend Tara and begged her to go shopping with me.

Since it was quiet and we had a few part-time bartenders looking for extra shifts, I had no problem finding someone to cover me. Sam was curious at my asking for extra time off but somehow restrained himself from asking. I didn't offer up where I was going; he was entirely too involved in my comings and goings. I saw that he was visibly relieved when Tara showed up. I hid my smirk.

A half hour later Tara and I were perusing the sales racks at Century 21.

"What do you think of this?" Tara asked as she held a dark green dress out in front of her.

Tara was taller than me, slimmer than me and had long wavy brown hair. The body-hugging dress would look fantastic on her.

"I like it but it's kind of early for dark green. Are you going to wear it to work?"

"No, Sookie. Some of us shop pre-season. I think it's nice enough to be a special occasion dress that you transition into a work outfit."

"Oh?" I ran my finger over the soft fabric. "I guess. What's the occasion?"

Tara appeared to give it some thought. "Maybe Thanksgiving."

"That's more than two months away!"

"Yeah, and this dress is a good deal and it'll be gone next time I'm here." Tara brought her eyes to mine and all of a sudden we weren't talking a dress. "Honey, you know I love you, right?"

"Yeah, Tar. Of course." Mystified, I just stared at her.

"Well, I worry sometimes you deny yourself little happinesses here and there because you're too caught up in the big picture."

This lecture was coming _from_ a girl who settled on her beautiful but dumb boyfriend because she wasn't interested in the "big picture."

This lecture was directed _to_ a girl who was dating a vampire. In spite of whatever decisions I'd made in the past that led Tara to think otherwise, my recent decisions were anything but skewed toward "big picture."

I decided to just laugh it off.

"Tar, thanks but I don't think you should worry about me."

"Aw, but I do! That's what friends do, Sookie. Worry about each other." Tara studied my face. I met her gaze and fought the urge to lower my shield.

The problem with having known Tara as long as I have is that she can tell when I've dipped into her thoughts. Not that she can _really_ tell but she's quick to notice if I suddenly seem a little too intuned to her thoughts. She's also not shy about voicing her suspicions, which tends to make me feel guilty whether or not I actually did read her thoughts. The end result is I tend not to lower my shield with Tara.

"What're you and Jason doing for Thanksgiving?"

My eyes widened. Tara surprised me.

"I haven't given it much thought but Jason wants to host it at his place."

It was my turn to surprise Tara.

"You're kidding me! No! Jason can cook?! When did he learn how to cook?!"

"No!" Amused by the look of utter shock carved into my friend's face, I laughed. "Jesus H Christ! How long have you known my brother? Of course, Jason can't cook! Until stuffing peanut butter and jelly sandwiches up the turkey is okay, I don't think we're going to see much culinary feats coming from him."

"But you said Jason wanted to host?"

"Yeah, Jason hosts. Sookie cooks." I watched as Tara registered my brother's latest selfish manipulation.

"Oh my God, Sookie! Your brother is a piece of work."

"Tell me about it. You believe that?"

"Did he even ask you? Are you gonna do it?"

"It's a lot of work." Deep down, was I entertaining the idea? "I don't know."

"Yeah, but you used to love hosting Thanksgiving. You know JB and I'll show up for dessert. Like old times…"

Smiling, I looked up at Tara. "It was Gran who loved cooking and hosting. I just helped."

"Keeping your Gran's traditions alive is a real good way to keep her around, too."

All of a sudden, I felt my eyes well up with tears.

"Damn, Tara. What the hell?" I dabbed at my eyes. "I thought this was just retail therapy, not retail-and-therapy." Feeling more at ease than I had in a while, I giggled.

Satisfied with herself, Tara snickered too. "I just thought you needed a little bit of both."

"Yeah," I agreed. "Guess I did."

~oooOOOooo~

"Why'd you tell me about that, Sookie?" asks Amelia.

I consider Amelia's question. My shopping date with Tara really wasn't important. Not in the grand scheme of things. Not in light of what was to come.

"I don't know…" My voice is a whisper. Even as I utter the words, I know they're a lie. I do know. "It was the last time I felt like myself."

"What do you mean?"

"After that, everything changed."

~oooOOOooo~

A few nights later I was at the Dog, tidying up the rear counter where we kept the liquor bottles, when I sensed eyes following my movements. There were a handful of patrons still polishing off their drinks. Sam was in the back doing paperwork, while Arlene was on the floor cleaning up the tables.

Warily, I shot a glance up at the clock. One-thirty. With a fake smile plastered to my face, I slowly turned around.

A blond blue-eyed smile matched my own. Only his was real.

"Eric!" Without a second thought, I tossed the wipe cloth down on the counter and-propping myself up on my tippy-toes— I leaned over the counter so I could plant a kiss on his lips. My smile stretched into a real one. "What are you doing here? You never texted. I didn't know you were coming in tonight."

Ha! Tara was worried that I was too caught up in the "big picture"? If she only knew the truth.

And what was that?

It was like my head had been on the job so long, it had opted for an early retirement.

And now? Who was calling the shots now?

It was all ventricles and atriums and whatever else is in there running the show now.

Eric, startled yet obviously pleased with his welcome, took my hand in his. He continued to lean in, focusing his eyes on mine.

"You are my first stop; I only now returned. Haven't been to the house yet." He used his thumb to draw circles in my palm; I felt my body warm with excitement. "But, for more greetings like that, perhaps I'll schedule weekly trips," he added playfully.

"No," I said quickly, perhaps too quickly. My next words came out calmer; I even managed a smile. "I'd rather you didn't."

"Ah." He pulled away but held onto my hand. "Problems while I was away?" He contemplated me from across the counter before lowering his lips to my ear. "With the fairies? Your kin?"

I had resolved to let the Niall issue sit on the back-burner for the moment. I rarely ever saw Eric handling work documents and he really didn't talk business that much. I had myself convinced my promise to Niall and Claudine was meaningless since the opportunity for me to do what they wanted would never come up.

I hoped.

As for Eric partnering with Niall's enemy, the bad fairy, Breandan—I could not believe he would willingly or knowingly do that.

Not when he was willing to murder the fairy and all his minions on sight to protect me.

Nope, I could not make myself believe that part of Niall and Claudine's tale. That was a mistake.

It had to be.

Despite everything, I was genuinely happy that Eric was back. In the silence that seemed to echo in the sparsely filled bar, two things hit me all at once: first, I was staring at Eric and, second, once again I had my nervous smile plastered on my face.

"Oh," I said, embarrassed, "I must look like a loon." I reeled in my facial muscles and yanked my eyes off of Eric. Taking a few deep breaths, I stared down at the bar counter.

Eric brought his other hand up to my cheek and gently guided my eyes back to his.

"You never look anything but beautiful. Please don't turn away from me."

"Thank you." The words caught in my throat.

"You're welcome." His hand abruptly fell from my face. "You did not answer my question. Is there something troubling you? Something new since I was away?"

Damn that Sookie GPS! Shit! Better to be as honest as I possibly can, right?

What if Claudine and my Great Grandfather were right about Eric's business liaison?

Dammit!

"Uh, I met someone." Suddenly I became aware of Sam who had joined me behind the bar and seemed to be working his way over to my side. Seeing Sam's head jerk slightly at my words, I realized how they sounded and quickly amended them. "My friend Claudine introduced me to someone."

"One of her relatives?"

"Yes."

"Trouble as usual," Eric muttered. "Damn, vexing mischief-makers." Visibly irritated, Eric ran his fingers through his hair.

Bemused at Eric, the thousand-year-old vampire—sounding like any other disgruntled husband dismayed over his intruding in-laws—I burst out laughing.

"Sookie?" Puzzled, he stared at me. "Why are you laughing?" Poor Eric. He was genuinely perplexed. It only made me laugh harder. After a few moments, he was laughing with me.

Sam, who had been noticeably moving closer and closer to where Eric and I stood alongside the bar, finally gave up the pretense on subtle and made his way over.

"Sookie? Is everything okay?" Sam's eyes were filled with concern as he looked toward me but quickly filled with anger as he turned to glare at Eric. "Any problems over here?"

"No, Sam." I made an effort to stop my giggles. "Fine here. Eric just said something funny."

The look on Sam's face almost set me over the edge again.

"Oh, yeah?" Sam was disbelieving. "Wouldn't have thought he'd have much of a sense of humor."

"Ah, and I would say the same of you, Shifter," Eric shot back. "You know they do say laughter is the key to a long life."

Eric's words resounded in my ears.

_They do say laughter is the key to a long life._

The thing is _they really do say that_. Why would Eric know such a platitude? Why would he care? I couldn't think of anything less relevant to a vampire. I started to laugh again.

Maybe it was a bit too much. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a couple of patrons turn to give me a look.

"I think Sookie may be overtired, Shifter. I'm here to deliver her safely home. Why don't you manage without her for the remainder of the night?"

Sam agreed with nothing more than low, "sure," which led me to wonder if Eric had put a whammy on him while I was caught up in my hysteria.

My laughter subsided with that sobering thought and I grabbed my bag from beneath the counter. Silently, I followed Eric outside. I saw that his car was right in front of the bar on 3rd Avenue. Confused, I looked back at the entrance to the bar.

"Did you do something? You know what I mean. To Sam? Is that why he let me go early?"

Eric raised an eyebrow as he held open the passenger door. "He let you go early because you work hard for him every day. He knows you. He must recognize you seem unlike yourself."

I nodded silently. As I climbed into the Corvette, I caught a glimpse of a briefcase on the floor of the passenger side. I shut my eyes. I took a few deep breaths and kept them shut.

"Tell me what happened. You met Niall, I take it?"

"Yes."

"What did you think?"

"Ah." I fell quiet. What did I think? "He is awesome. An _awesome_ creature."

"He frightens you."

Pot meet kettle. "Yeah, I suppose he does."

"You don't trust him."

"No," I shook my head. "Not really."

"You are right not to."

Suddenly the car came to a stop and the engine died. My eyes shot open. We were in front of my building.

"That was fast."

"You fell asleep."

I did? I bent forward to pick up my handbag from the car floor and Eric caught me eying his briefcase.

"My meetings went well."

"Oh? That's good." _Please don't say another word. _

"Yes, we are very close this time."

"Good," I whispered.

"Are you okay, my Sookie?"

Was I okay? I was about as far from okay as I could be. Where do I even begin to crack this nut?

"Do you still mean what you said? Would you really take Niall out first?"

"I see," he nodded. "The hypothetical has been given a face."

"Yeah, I guess you could say that." I turned away and stared out the side window.

"Sookie." I felt a cold hand cup my cheek. I turned to meet his gaze. "I promise you this: if I do anything that causes you pain, it will have been the last resort."

I sighed.

"You mean the only reason you're doing it is cause you have no choice?"

"Yes."

"_What would you say if I said the same thing to you?_"

"I would say I understood."

I blinked, trying to will away the tears in my eyes.

"Not exactly declarations of love, are they?"

"Who loves after a thousand years?"

Who loves after a lifetime of telepathy?

* * *

><p><strong>AN: It has never taken as long for me to get a story out as it has taken with this one. Many life changes in the past year. Sorry about the fits and starts. Thank you for sticking with us. Just as an aside, I have not yet read "Deadlocked." Should I?<strong>


	25. I was lost in the cities

**Characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I just gave them my hometown and a little bit of my attitude.**

~oooOOOooo~

"What do you mean, Sookie? 'Everything changed'?"

What do I mean?…

"Things weren't the same after that. It felt like I was keeping secrets." I sigh. "I should have just asked Eric about what my Great Grandfather said but I didn't because I was afraid to. I was afraid the answer wouldn't be good and I was afraid it would start something between them."

"You feared Eric would harm your great-grandfather?"

I shrug. "Yeah. But it wasn't just that."

"What else?"

"Niall could've killed Eric." I could've gotten caught in the crossfire. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. "In the end, it didn't matter anyway."

"Why?"

"Neither of them killed anyone."

Amelia looks visibly relieved.

"So no one died," she comments.

Slowly I open my eyes and meet Amelia's gaze. "I didn't say that." I pause. "It just wasn't either of them who did it."

"Tell me, Sookie…"

I settle back in to my seat and continue my story.

~oooOOOooo~

Eric and I quickly fell back into our routine. For the next week or two, each night, about twenty minutes before closing Eric would show up at the bar to escort me home. If the weather was nice, we'd walk. Otherwise, we'd take the Corvette. Thankfully, his briefcase didn't make another appearance.

As for us, we didn't spend any personal time together, but I welcomed the break. I chalked it up to us both being preoccupied. Eric's business took up much of his waking hours, while keeping my shaky nerves in check occupied much of mine.

As it turned out, our strange, yet surreally comfortable routine was to be short-lived. One night Eric stopped in at the Dog well before closing. Mid-week, the bar was pretty dead (ha ha). Immediately, I wondered what was up: It was much too early for him to be accompanying me home and I knew it was unlikely that he would sit in the bar and wait for four hours.

Looking at him, I could tell that something was wrong. Instead of seating himself at one of the empty bar stools, he just leaned with his side against the bar. Usually the other bar patrons held little interest for him, but tonight he seemed to be keeping one eye on the door, looking for someone.

Waiting...?

"Hey." Dragging a towel across the bar's puckered wood, I closed the distance between us. At the sound of my voice, he turned his eyes to meet mine. "What's up? You know I don't get out for a few hours."

I forced a smile, but a hint of worry could be heard in my voice.

"My child is coming," Eric replied, his lips twisted into a wry smile.

"What?"

"Pam."

"Oh..."

Wordlessly Eric nodded.

"When? Like now?"

"Tonight. This is why I am here."

I didn't exactly understand why Eric's reaction to Pam visiting would be to come see me, but I tried to hide my confusion. As it was, I didn't have much time to be confused anyway.

Without another word of explanation, Eric turned to face the door. Following his lead, I locked my eyes onto the entrance. A few seconds later, a petite blonde woman wearing a red trench coat, black skinny pants, and black leather booties walked in followed by a large, powerful-looking male wearing a black leather jacket over black jeans. The man had long coal black straight hair, a craggy nose, and a straight line of a mouth.

Even if I hadn't known them for what they were, I still would've regarded them as the oddest couple the Dog had seen in quite some time.

As the two made their way over to Eric and I, the blond woman gave me a little smile. I didn't know if she meant it to be comforting, but it wasn't, even with her sweet, round milkmaid's face. I recognized her immediately as the void I'd encountered before meeting Eric.

I turned to look at the man. Observing his distinctive features, I wondered if he were Native American.

Apparently the curiosity was mutual.

"Who is your friend, Eric?"

The Native American's words jolted me out of my reverie. I tore my eyes from the two newcomers and glanced back at Eric, who remained silent.

"Never mind the introductions, Eric," Pam said, her eyes traveling from Eric to me as she continued. "I'm more interested in knowing what's for dinner?"

My breathing hitched as I met her gaze.

Eric's eyes hadn't shifted from the blonde's.

"She's mine, Pam." Eric's words were quiet and low.

"That," she drawled, "hasn't stopped you before."

"It stops me now." Despite its lack of aggression, Eric's tone was forceful in its matter-of-fact absoluteness.

Pam seemed to be somewhat more inured to Eric's demeanor.

I watched as they engaged in a silent battle of wills; a potent energy could be felt bubbling just beneath the surface.

Suddenly Pam broke the stare-down and I felt her eyes on me.

"I remember you."

Wordlessly, I nodded.

"I came in here last year. I guess I missed it then." In two quick steps, she was at the bar, her face directly in front of mine. "I'm not missing it now, though." My heart lodged in my throat. She paused before continuing, "Long Shadow?"

"Delicious."

Shocked, I lifted my head to look past Pam at the one she called Long Shadow who now stood behind her. He smiled at me. Even without fangs, I was scared to death.

"Eric," Pam finally moved out of my personal space and took a seat at the bar. "I can hear her heart racing." She smiled at Eric. "You'll have quite the treat later. Are you sure you don't want to share?"

Eric finally pulled his eyes from Pam and focused on me. I worked hard to control my breathing.

"Yes, Pam." Eric and my eyes locked. "I am sure."

I let out another silent breath.

Pam seemed a bit perturbed by Eric's inflexibility. She set her lips in a pout.

"Well, that's no fun," she complained, turning to look at the dance floor. "What am I going to have for dinner?"

I shivered while Long Shadow smirked. I was glad I was behind the bar. Sensing yet another pair of eyes on me, I turned to look behind me and spotted Sam at the other end of the bar.

Sam and I locked gazes and he motioned for me to join him. Smiling tightly, I turned back to the vamps.

"My boss needs me for a minute. I'll be right back to take your orders."

"Don't worry about us," replied Pam. "No hurry. Maybe later."

Eric glared at Pam. Somewhat shocked, I could see that he wanted to beat the crap out of her. I was only too happy to be leaving them.

I joined Sam at the other end of the bar.

"Hey," I threw my boss a smile, albeit a weak one. "You really need me over here or you just rescuing me?"

Sam wasn't much in the mood for jokes. He handed a pint of Guinness to a customer before pulling me off to the side.

"Are they bothering you?"

Smiling wanly, I shook my head.

"The blond woman is Eric's child. Not sure about the Native American guy. But she has to do whatever Eric tells her. He told her I'm off-limits."

Sam nodded, and let out an ugly laugh. "Thank God Eric is a selfish prick I guess."

I slanted my eyes as I looked at my boss.

"Just...I worry about you. And him. And this whole situation. All the time."

"I know. And I love you for it. You know that, don't you?"

Sam grinned. "Any more talk about the blood substitute?"

"Still coming down the pike," I answered, keeping my tone light. "It'll be here soon."

Grabbing a towel, Sam began to wipe down the counter.

"Sookie," Sam swiped at the counter vigorously. "You have no idea how much I pray that that's true. For your sake…"

"Yeah, I know." Glancing at the other end of the bar, I saw Eric, Pam and Long Shadow deep in conversation.

Following my gaze, Sam's face contorted. He said,

"I wanna talk to you after they're gone. Okay?"

Uncertainly I nodded. I figured there was a chance Eric would take his "friends" and leave early. Maybe the other vamps really needed to eat. Maybe they'd have to glamour some people. Maybe I wasn't as safe from them as I seemed to think.

Not wanting to dwell on it, I forced myself to focus on getting back to work.

The stars aligned in my favor when a bachelor party of about ten made their way into the bar.

Until I caught a glimpse of the hungry look on the two newcomers.

Silently, I prayed for the night to end.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sorry! I never thought it would be this long between updates. What can I say? Work seems to take over my life a lot lately. Thanks for sticking with me. <strong>


	26. Pearls and swine bereft of me

**Characters belong to Charlaine Harris. I just gave them my hometown and a little bit of my attitude. As I have not read either Dead Locked or Dead Ever After, they will not influence this story. This story was actually outlined back in 2011 when I first began posting. Any plot twists occurring in this chapter are purely coincidental.**

* * *

><p>With Arlene off for the night, the unexpected bachelor party kept me, Sam, and the part-time barmaid, Holly, pretty busy. Which was just as well, as I didn't want to dwell too much on Eric's guests. As it was, I could feel eyes on me throughout the evening, bringing prickles to my spine.<p>

After a while Eric caught my eye and motioned for me to come over. Recognizing a familiar glint in his eyes, briefly I forgot my fear.

"Hey," I smiled at him.

"Sookie," he said, returning the grin.

Pam looked sharply between the two of us and scowled. I told myself to ignore it.

Suddenly an abrupt change came over Eric. He became all business.

"We are leaving now, Sookie."

"Oh, okay," I said brightly, too brightly.

I couldn't help the relief that flooded my body even if it was rude to Eric's two "friends." Eric's tone was odd. Strained. I glanced at Pam and Long Shadow. If they felt slighted by my reaction to the news of their departure, they didn't show it. Pam smirked while Long Shadow's face showed nothing at all. I felt a smile stiffen across my face.

"Well, enjoy yourselves. Bay Ridge is a lot of fun. There's a lot of fun people—or stuff to do, in Brooklyn."

Inwardly, I winced. I was single-handedly producing the most twisted tourism commercial _ever_. '_Come vampires. Brooklyn awaits. Ethnically diverse, up late, and fun.'_

It seemed that Pam at least caught on to the dark nuance of my words as she threw me a bemused look.

Whatever it was they were going out to do, Eric wasn't offering up details. I knew without question that I was better off not knowing.

"Will you be all right?" Eric asked quietly.

"Fine," I replied, my "Crazy Sookie" smile now a fixture. "I'll be fine."

Remembering the cause for his concern, a rush of thoughts flitted across my mind. Was there more to Pam's visit than just a child checking in with her maker? What about Long Shadow? Could they have anything to do with my fairy relatives or the blood manufacturing plant?

Did Eric know something that I didn't?

Or, did I know something that Eric didn't?

Could this be a trap?

Despite my fears, I kept the smile planted on my face and managed to pull off a breezy reply.

"You know I've managed to get myself home okay for while now."

Eric squinted as he stared at me. I watched as his eyes shot in the direction of Long Shadow. Long Shadow glared back, his face not betraying any secrets. _Oh, hell_. I wasn't sure what to make of _that_.

"Take caution," Eric said, nodding.

Eric started to pull away and gestured to his companions that it was time to leave. They took a few steps towards the door when all of a sudden Eric stopped and looked back at me.

"Have the shifter walk you home."

I glanced at Sam who was busy pouring drinks and even busier keeping at eye on the scene at the front of the bar.

"Maybe," I replied uncertainly.

"Do as I request, Sookie."

Silently I nodded. I'd finally lost the smile from my face.

~~~oOo~~~

A few hours later, I found myself making my way down Third Avenue with Sam. While initially I had read a hint of trepidation – or maybe concern is more accurate – in his head, he didn't hesitate to agree to walking me home.

Enjoying the silence and the stillness of the night, I debated saying anything. Sam had mentioned wanting to talk to me earlier and if I opened the conversational door, I might get more than I bargained for. But, I was Adele Stackhouse's granddaughter and I did owe him a thank you.

"Thank you, Sam." I gave him a sidelong glance as we walked. "Thank you for walking me home."

"Not a problem, Sookie," he smiled reassuringly. "You know I think of you more as a friend than an employee."

"I know, I know," I nodded. "Me too. I feel the same way. It's just I know you probably cancelled plans to walk me and I wanted to let you know I appreciated it."

We fell into a comfortable silence before I shattered it with my next words.

"Eric was pretty adamant about me not walking home alone."

Seeing Sam's reaction, I immediately regretted my words.

Suddenly we stopped walking and Sam turned on me, a harsh look on his face.

"Sookie, I don't get it." His eyes bore into mine. "I don't get you and him. I don't understand what he's up to. He treats you like you're his _damn_ girlfriend—"

Righteous indignation seems to be communicable when it comes to Sam. Glaring at him, I made no effort to bite back my words.

"That's 'cause I _am_ his _damn_ girlfriend!"

"_Vampires_..." he continued, bitterly. Then, all of a sudden, he was deflated and fell quiet. Maybe it was something he saw in my face. I watched as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he picked up, his words were much more measured, his emotions in check. "Sookie, vampires don't have relationships. They're predators. Humans are happy meals to them." He paused for effect. "Pretty, stupid happy meals."

I could feel the anger growing inside me. With all that I had on my plate, I _really_ didn't need Sam lecturing me about Eric right then.

"Sam! Will you please give me some credit? I know Eric better than you do. I know what he is and believe me, I _definitely_ know what he's capable of."

He nearly killed me when we first met. I knew—as much as I could promise to keep his secret—he could always turn around and think I'm a risk to him. I held onto hope that they would perfect the synthetic blood formula and that the vampires would come out then. That would be the game-changer. Things would be different then.

I just needed to survive until then.

Suddenly my anger at Sam dissipated. He was annoying the hell out of me with his attitude but I knew it came from his heart. I knew it was because he was worried about me.

"Sam," I took his hand and smiled. "I love you and I know I'm incredibly lucky to have you as a friend. And I appreciate your concern, but I have a lot of things going on. Some stuff you don't know about."

"Sookie, I know your _gift_ makes you uneasy—"

"It's more than that," I interrupted him. "It's more than that." My exhaustion hit me all at once. I closed my eyes.

Sam must have realized how he was doing a sub-par job of walking me home. My eyelids continued to droop heavily; I felt his hand tugging on my arm.

"Come on," he said. "Let's walk while we talk."

With eyes barely open, I allowed my boss to lead me down the sidewalk.

"Those two tonight…?"

"Yeah…"

"Do you trust them not to hurt you?"

I didn't hesitate with my answer.

"No."

"Do you know how to kill them?"

Suddenly wide-awake, I pulled away to look at Sam. "Sam, I _couldn't_—"

My words died on my lips. I was counting on myself being able to defend myself against my family's fairy enemies. Why wouldn't I make an effort to protect myself against from the vampires? Especially now after I know others are in the area who seem to think I might be _delicious_?

"Sookie, you saw those two tonight. Eric may want you alive, but you don't know about those others. If they find out you're different, they…they may want things of you. Damn, Sookie. Despite what you _think_ you have with Eric, they're not like normal people. They are _predators_. Monsters. Even with Eric. You can't deny that he would kill you if he thought you were a threat to him. Don't you see you're justified to feel the same?"

Sighing heavily I glanced up at my friend and boss of five years who seemed to be trying to talk me into murdering my boyfriend.

"Sam, what exactly are you suggesting?"

"If they never come up with this blood substitute, if you guys broke up, if you came to your senses or if Eric just got tired of you because you were getting older, do you really think he'd let you just walk away from him?"

As if I were on autopilot, I responded to Sam with the line of reasoning I'd long repeated to myself.

"It won't be a problem. When the blood substitute is available, the vampires are going to make themselves known—"

"_If_, Sookie. _If_ the blood substitute is available."

I frowned. "Why're you saying it that way? Eric says it's nearly ready. Early formulas came close enough that everyone's figuring it'll be any day now." I gave Sam a steady look. Do you know anything different?"

"No. Yes. I don't know, Sook. I do know something you don't: vampires operate under a different sense of time. And I know this: they've been on the verge of finalizing the blood formula for _at least_ eight years."

Oh. _Shit._

"I didn't know that."

"No reason why you would know that." I watched as Sam bent to pick up a fast-food wrapper from the sidewalk and toss it into the trash. "It's not like I'd expect him to be honest with you."

I thought about that.

"Eric didn't lie to me."

"A matter of degrees."

"It's not like I asked him straight out how long the research has been going on for."

"Lies of omission are still lies, Sookie."

I didn't want to delve too deeply into that train of thought. If Eric had a typical "bad boyfriend" habit, not being fully honest with me was probably it. But since he was 1,000 years old, in terms of bad habits a boyfriend could have, I told myself it was mild.

Besides, I reminded myself, Eric's truths were hard enough.

I guess I'd have to change my tune if his not sharing a piece of information with me ever caused me harm or brought about my death. Of course, my quibbles about him having bad boyfriend habits would be moot at that point.

Replaying the past few minutes of conversation, I realized Sam had unintentionally let the cat (dog?) out of the bag.

How did he know the search for the synthetic blood formula had been going on for eight years? Mr. Mild Mannered Bartender Pooch?

"I know all about lies of omission, Sam." I said truthfully, a hard edge to my voice.

Looking at my friend, I saw the hurt in Sam's eyes and a wave of guilt promptly came over me.

"Sorry," I muttered.

"It's okay, Sookie."

At that point, we fell into a slightly uncomfortable silence. Thankfully, soon we were in front of my building.

"We're here." I smiled. "Safe and sound."

"Yep." Sam looked at me and I could tell he had more he wanted to say. I fought the impulse to dip into his brain and try to read his thoughts.

"Sam? What is it?"

"Listen, Sookie, I'm serious about you protecting yourself. I have an acquaintance. His name's Alcide Herveaux."

My eyebrow quirked; I thought the name sounded familiar.

"I know that name. Who is he?"

"Alcide is a carpenter. Did some work for the bar few years back." He looked at me, considering. "I don't think you met him. The bar was closed when he did the work. But you probably heard his name and saw it on some paperwork."

I nodded.

"He's like me."

I kept my face still. Was Sam finally acknowledging what I already knew? We both knew Sam wasn't referring to his birth sign (Aquarius). But I wasn't going to make it easy for him. Not after all this time.

_"And by that you mean...?"_

"Sookie, we both know what I'm talking about. Eric's filled you in on what I am, hasn't he?"

My silence gave me away.

"I'm a shifter. I change into a dog. Alcide is a Were. He changes into a wolf."

Where in the hell would a man change into a wolf in Brooklyn? As if he were reading my mind, Sam filled in the blanks.

"Alcide's got a place up in Ulster County. Rural. There's nothing there."

Wordlessly, I nodded. Ulster County was about an hour and fifteen minutes north of the City although with traffic, the drive likely took upwards of two hours. If you asked a city resident, they'd say Ulster was in Upstate New York. If you asked a resident of Ulster, they'd say they lived outside the City. New York City has a bit of a love/hate relationship with the rest of the state.

"Anyway," Sam paused a beat, searching for the right words. Quietly I waited. "He's real clever. Good with woodworking. If you wanted something-maybe ten inches long with a sharpened point—he could probably make it so it looked like an umbrella handle."

A stake. Sam was talking about a stake. I felt my heart skip a beat.

"_Sam, I couldn't do that to Eric—"_

Frowning, Sam looked at me thoughtfully.

"Not necessarily talking about Eric. I'm kind of surprised and a little concerned that that's where your mind jumped to frankly. What about those two from tonight? What about others like them? Eric shared _his_ secret with you—_their_ secret. Some vamps may not like that. It's bad enough them knowing about you—just that you exist. Do they know that you can't be made to forget? That's their _number one defense mechanism_ and it doesn't work with you. Do they _know_ that? "

I nodded. Sam was voicing my own, unvoiced fear. I could tell from the way they were behaving towards me—and Pam's comments about _dinner_—that they knew I understood their true natures. Did they know about my telepathy? Did they know I couldn't be glamoured? Did they know I was part-fairy?

Did any of that matter to them?

"Just think about it, Sookie. You could keep it in your apartment. Or carry in your bag. Just… in... case."

_In case._ Along with the iron tools and the emergency lemon juice.

After a few moments' silence, I'd made my decision.

"I'll think about it, Sam. Good night."

I gave Sam a hug and made my way into my building.

I hated the risk of having another secret from Eric.

But I hated the risk of becoming Pam's _dinner_ more.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Again, I never thought it would be this long between updates. Sorry. I'm done with the books. I regard the last few CH books as fanfic rather than canon. I enjoy my character portrayals more than the originals now. Wish I had more time to write. I apologize if there are any quirks. I'm trying to make sure there's no inconsistencies but I don't have time now to reread all that came before. I hope to clean it up when it's done like I did with ROTSS and Dead Man. Thank you for reading!<strong>


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